


discendo docemus

by llamallamaduck



Category: Naruto
Genre: A lot of talk about depression and mental instability, Also Sharingan fuckery and assorted eye-trauma, Averagely evil Orochimaru considering the standards there, Gen, Good Orochimaru (Naruto), I don't know, Is anyone good in the Elemental Nations?, Tsunade is everybody's mum, Uchiha Sasuke-centric, Well - Freeform, let's be real its gonna be a strange ride, somehow this ended up being a family-fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:55:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 36,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29541993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/llamallamaduck/pseuds/llamallamaduck
Summary: There are some things a seven-year-old psyche is not ready to endure. An S-ranked torture technique preformed by a traumatized thirteen-year-old is one of those things. Sasuke doesn’t enjoy hallucinating memories of his murdered family day in and day out, but he’s learned to be philosophical about such things. It’s everything else that’s the problem, really.
Relationships: Orochimaru & Uchiha Sasuke, Tsunade & Uchiha Sasuke, Uchiha Itachi & Uchiha Sasuke
Comments: 346
Kudos: 482
Collections: Japanese Approved





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> On the title:   
> The original phrase is docendo discimus, which means by teaching we learn.   
> My version is Discendo docemus, which (should) mean by learning we teach

Age seven 

They’re always just—there. Sometimes—if he’s very lucky—they stay in the corner of his eyes. Sasuke is not lucky, as a rule. Most often they are indistinguishable from real life, images of mothers and fathers, of cousins and aunts. Other than knowing they cannot be real—they’re just memories, cruel tricks of his mind—there is no way to tell the difference. They look real. They even sound real. Whatever messed up game his mind is playing is very elaborate. It takes into account things like how sun-rays should fall on them, what shadows they would cast on the ground.

He is seven—an Academy Student—and he knows with crystal clarity: he must fix this. He can’t be a Shinobi if he’s crazy. He can’t complete his Mission if he’s crazy.

It is not difficult to slot the latest and greatest of his worries right at the top of his list of priorities. Getting stronger is important—but this is a matter of life and death. Not just because of how it impacts his battle-readiness. He’s not inclined to die yet, somehow, but a part of his mind knows that will change sooner or later if he keeps seeing memories of his family walking, talking, laying dead in muddy puddles of blood. Academy is—trivial in comparison.

He gets a lot of leeway, which is convenient. The instructors probably expected some sort of breakdown. Which, yeah. If he had to stumble into insanity, there’s no better time for it than now, when he doesn’t need to justify himself. If anyone looked really close they might figure out its insanity and not grief, but he is swiftly learning just how much nobody wants to look. After his initial stay in the hospital, he is sent to the Compound before the blood has had time to dry. He learns many things about his hallucinations, then. They don’t disappear until he walks into them bodily. Which he has to do, often, to scrub the stains.

Since the priorities have shifted, his vague plans have to shift with them. The simple plan of ‘train until nobody can hurt you ever again’ is scrapped. Instead of training, he spends all the time he can physically withstand trying to understand what is happening to him.

The only source of information are the books. Uchiha have a library. He’s never been to the public library—it could be much better than this one. This one is private though, and he can take whatever he wants for however long he wants. The downside of course is that there is nobody to help him find the stuff he needs. He can deal with that. The bigger downside is that the majority of the texts are Sharingan-locked. Not all, though, which is plenty.

Life-wise, he’s pretty set. The only chore he has, really, is the Academy. With hundreds of families slaughtered, Sasuke is set for non-perishables for lifetimes. (Hundreds of lifetimes, even). He still has to buy food, but he can whittle that down to once every three days if he’s smart about it.

He finds, all in all, eighty-seven books on brains and minds in the library—at least in the part he can access. He can’t even understand all of the words in the titles. He packs them off into baskets he stole from the abandoned bakery. (He really must find some time to clean out, because the smell of rotting food is getting to him). If he were bigger or smarter, he’d know how to use sealing-scrolls by now. Baskets are what he has. He takes them all and stashes it all in a storage-house he has been living in.

The Instructors start giving him pointed tips on studying since his grades are slipping, which is also very convenient. Most of the advice is useless—he doesn’t know what they are trying to do, but helping him is not it. Umino-sensei is helpful, though. He explains how Sasuke can help himself—how to use the dictionary, for example. How to divide the sentences into short bits he can string together later. How to take notes and organize them.

He chooses a book on random—not the thickest one, not the thinnest one. The middle is a good place to start. After some time reading the dictionary, he comes to the conclusion he needs a text about psychology. Psychology of children—the dictionary assures him he is still a child, even if he certainly doesn’t feel like one.

During the first three months, he doesn’t even try to understand the text. Instead he fills notebook after notebook with notes. First is a list of unfamiliar Kanji—which is most of them. Then he moves on to a specialized mini-dictionary, explaining unfamiliar words, grouped in a way that makes sense. Last, a cheat-sheet of definitions, laws and principles more complex than just what the dictionary contains.

He’s not even surprised when it doesn’t work. Even after he learned the words, he still doesn’t understand what the book is saying. He always knew he was stupid for an Uchiha—but he has outdone himself this time. The words—don’t make sense. The sentences are long and complicated and the longer he studies, the more mistakes he makes. His mind slows down and fills with a sort of not-noise that makes his eyes water and his ears ring. He tries reading sentences over and over again. Tries writing them down. At some point though, he is forced to admit: his brain is simply too slow and no amount of exercise will change that. Training his body was simple—a weak muscle becomes stronger with time. His brain seems to be beyond help.

Fine, then. He will work around it—Shinobi work around their disabilities all the time. If he can’t understand the text as it is, why not make it easier? He re-writes each sentence over and over, each time simplifying a part of it. Word by word, line by line. He has time. (No, he hasn’t.)

Age eight

The memories—hallucinations, the books inform him—are still there, still life-like. A full year after That Day and Sasuke has only grown more crazy. Sometimes he sees three memories of the same person at the same time. Although, to be fair, one of them is usually the corpse of that person, so it doesn’t really count.

They’re worst in the Compound—which makes sense. His hallucinations aren’t imaginary, they’re not invented. They’re memories of things that happened. And almost all of his memories take place in the Compound.

In a strange twist of, well, insanity, he finds it more and more difficult to hate his brother. Day in and day out, he watches memories of his soft smile and gentle words. Every encouragement, every kind touch. All the things he didn’t even realize were so precious, so full of love and warmth.

Of course, there are also Fugaku and Mikoto, who provide an almost humorous contrast. He doesn’t like thinking about his parents that way. It is disrespectful. Improper. He lights incense in the shrine every week, but the truth is the truth. Without the oppressive weight of Fugaku’s gaze and Chakra, Sasuke sees more. Sees that the way Fugaku treated him was—bad. He doesn’t have one memory of the man that isn’t, well, abusive.

The concept of abuse is a hard one to understand. Sasuke is a shinobi—will be a Shinobi. Has vague ideas about living long enough to become a Shinobi. They fight and kill and torture. Surely, if that’s okay, then all the other stuff is okay, too?

The books say it is not. The books say a lot about how hurting children sticks, how it affects them for a long time after that. Physically they grow up, but inside they are small and crooked and badly-formed like a bonsai tree. How they are not equipped to be under such stress.

That describes Sasuke so well, he slips into a decent meltdown then and there. Not equipped. It’s—he never even thought there could be words that describe everything he is. Sasuke who is Not Equipped. Not for his family, not for his mission, not for very real requirements of being a semi-functional civilian. Even when given all the tools, he is mentally not equipped to use them, which is really the final nail.

* * *

Six weeks into the second year post That Day, he stumbles across an Answer. A simple idea that would explain everything.

Sasuke is not actually an Uchiha. Sasuke is a child Mikoto and Fugaku raised, but he was never theirs. Why they agreed to take him in, to feed him and clothe him and call him Uchiha he doesn’t know. It’s likely Itachi’s doing. Aniki probably found him somewhere and took pity on him. Itachi was strong and big and a genius. Fugaku would have done a lot to ensure he remains the heir. It explains everything. Why Fugaku disliked him so much, why Mikoto didn’t mind at all. Why he’s so soft and stupid and not equipped. (Why Itachi didn’t kill him.)

It doesn’t really explain the hallucinations—except it kind of does? Whatever Itachi did to him, it probably would not have been so bad, if Sasuke was a real Uchiha. Who knows what he did? Aniki probably forgot Sasuke was a foundling, so he tried an Uchiha-only technique and it backfired.

Or maybe it Itachi didn’t cause this at all—maybe his brain was always faulty. The books all say that hallucinations are caused by a, well, mistake in the brain. There is a block, or a missing part or something, that throws everything else into disarray. The organ itself is at fault, is the point.Something is broken inside.

The explanation lightens him—it makes everything easier to bear. It doesn’t fix his immediate problems—hallucinations, the fact that he can’t really speak too much, that he’s all alone and that living feels more and more like a punishment. What it does mean, is that he will get to leave the Compound at some point. That is very good.

He doesn’t hate the Compound itself, of course—how would he even hate a place? But the memories never stop, and he is running out of energy to deal with them. He’s seen all of them by now—and watching his Father be cruel to a Sasuke-shaped patch of air is getting depressing.

He tries sleeping in the training ground, but the ANBU bring him back every evening. A spark of something tries to ignite—anger, maybe. It is gone the next moment, though. It is not their fault, he reasons, watching a Ghost-Itachi help not-there Sasuke with his Catspaw kata with a gentle smile. They don’t know Sasuke is not an Uchiha. Plus, being angry takes a lot of effort, and Sasuke is tired all the time. It’s easier to let it go.

Being locked inside the Compound is a problem that has a solution, which is fantastic. Sasuke isn’t sure what the solution is, exactly, but it seems much more doable than not being crazy. Or killing his brother—that he doesn’t want to kill anymore. He should—should want to, should want nothing more. But he doesn’t. Itachi is, to date, the only other human that had ever loved him. Not to mention, he will never in a million years be strong enough to actually do it. Sasuke is one insane eight-year-old. He’s not even an Uchiha—so no Sharingan. Just getting through the day is getting harder and harder each day. No, for now, the only focus is getting sane. After that—who knows.

Age nine

Two important things happen in his ninth year, two years and six weeks after That Day. They aren’t what one might call good, but Sasuke has stopped thinking about his life in terms of good and bad anyway.

He learns about inheritance in the Academy. It’s a serious topic—Konoha has many Clans, and blood is important. He knows this already, of course. Blood is everything. Blood and fire. (After that night, his mind never let him forget how much blood there was in the Uchiha Clan.)

Never mind that. Because blood is so important—because blood is power and power is life—the Konoha hospital has a method of investigating the contents of it. Blood can tell important things—heritage, health, even origins to an extent.

It’s perfect. They cost money, but Sasuke has money—for now. After he has proof he is not an Uchiha, he will have to give that money up, but that is fine. He will go to the orphanage—his books assure him he is an orphan, even if his older brother is still alive and could be considered his guardian.

The nurses at the hospital look at him with pity in their eyes, but they are nice overall. They let him dim the lights in the room, and don’t make him talk. A junior medic—Yakushi—and a senior medic—Kaname—administer the test and explain the results.

He is too an Uchiha. He asks for a second test, then a third. They oblige him, and don’t even charge him for the second and third test. He stops himself at number three—first, because he has to stop somewhere, and it might as well be three. Second, they have no reason to lie. In fact, it would be better for the Village to take all Uchiha money and houses and land. They wouldn’t lie to harm themselves.

No, Sasuke is an Uchiha. A runty sort, sure, but there it is—Sasuke Uchiha, age nine, second son of Fugaku Uchiha and Mikoto Uchiha.

Once his theory is so rudely destroyed, he is left at loose ends. He’s back, as it were, to square one. Why did they hate him? They could not know, then, that Sasuke was a faulty child—he was just a child. Sure, if that was happening now, he’d understand—Sasuke can barely keep himself fed properly. He can't even understand why he’s insane, never mind the rest of it. But it didn’t—it was happening back when he was small and, honestly, pretty okay for a baby.

They didn’t even like Itachi that much. Mikoto—it is strange to think of her as mother after a year of being certain she was at best an unwilling caretaker—cared for Aniki a bit, he thinks. More than Sasuke, but that’s not saying much. He remembers she tried to talk to Aniki a couple of times. As for Fugaku—that could have been a strange form of love? It was very demanding and kind of selfish and mean, but he did say not-awful things to Itachi here and there.

He doesn’t understand, and with half a mind, he still thinks—maybe there was a mistake. The best explanation is that Sasuke was an imposter.

The world doesn’t let him believe that for too long—which is how Sasuke learns a valuable lesson in never lying to himself on purpose.

The second important thing that happens that year is his first kidnapping.

* * *

He’s reading—he’s always reading—and then—he’s waking up in the hospital.

He knows it’s the hospital because of the smell and the noise—but he can’t see a thing. The confusion overrides the fear—but not the pain. Everything hurts so intensely that he struggles to breathe. Noises happen—loud machines and raised voices and people touch him. Look at that—he can in fact be terrified.

When he wakes up again, he feels much better. His body doesn’t hurt as much, except his face around the eyes. There are bandages covering him from the bridge of his nose to the top of his forehead, soaked in something harsh and medicinal. The noise of the hospital is unmistakable, so he is probably still there. Alright.

He is too floaty to be bored, so he waits however long it takes for a nurse to come in.She brings in the doctors after fussing a little.

The story is simple enough. ANBU saved him from an enemy ninja who kidnapped him out of the Konoha Library. The ANBU was, however, too late to stop the enemy from removing his eyes.

The medics then have to halt their explanation for a little while, so that the roaring in his ears abates and his heart-rate slows down. Not to worry, they add when he is more present. They put his eyes back in. They even function acceptably well—the medics reconnected them to his head with minimal complications. Another good thing is that the enemy made sure to activate the Sharingan before they took the eyes, they explain with the tone of adults trying to squeeze out something good out of a wholly terrible situation.

He waits for the bad thing. Nobody starts with the good thing, if the bad thing isn’t much worse. Especially when the good thing is so obviously not-good.

The bad thing, explains the medic, is that there was a complication with the re-attachment. They aren’t sure why exactly, but something happened, and now he will most likely never be able to turn off his Sharingan. Not to worry—he is small now, but he will grow up. He could have Chakra to use his eyes on for hours if he trains hard. For now, however, he shouldn’t take off the blindfold at all—Chakra exhaustion will set in after about two seconds of use.

Sasuke sort of shuts down, after it becomes clear they don’t have anything useful to say. His eyes are—as they are. He is most definitely an Uchiha—even his wish to lie to himself dies in the face of two Sharingan eyes in his head.

The ANBU take him to the Compound pretty soon after that. They Shuunshin him to the main house, which is nice of them—they usually leave him at the front gate. It would be difficult to have to find his way home now.

There is a lot of food in his kitchen—prepared food, even. His investigation of the fridge goes predictably slowly, but the results are worth it. The fridge is full of box-meals, pre-packaged for ease of use. On his counter-top are six giant thermos-bottles, three filled with tea and three filled with hot chocolate.

Only ANBU ever come here—and this doesn’t look like it was ordered by the village. The village was quick to realize Sasuke’s worth is dwindling rapidly.

He grabs one five-litre thermos, a big bowl of beef-rice and inches slowly towards what was once Itachi’s room, and is now Sasuke’s nest.

Everything is better with warm food in his hands, and a warm drink there to help it go down. Bit by bit, the aggressive quiet of his mind lifts, and slowly he can think again. Alright—what’s the situation.

Well—he’s effectively blind for the next, what, five to ten years? Thereabout. The Academy is out—they had him sign the disenrollment papers before the hospital bill. He can’t say he’s surprised—the village won’t train a blind Shinobi. Things would have been different if he only got blind after he was already strong. But now—yeah. So. Drastically shortened life-expectancy goes on the top of the ‘downside’ column. The Sharingan is a pretty valuable tool—not to Sasuke, exactly, but to other people? Very much so. And the sourcing of that viable resource comes down to two viable pairs in the world. One is in the head of an S-ranked missing-nin. The other is in Sasuke the ill-equipped.

He sips his hot chocolate slowly and tries to let that notion sink in. Blind. No more training, no more reading, no more watching the moon reflect off the lake.

No more hallucinations.

A slow, tired smile touches his lips. No more pools of blood, no more Fugaku-ghosts. No more baby-corpses. It doesn’t even matter he has to stay in the compound—it doesn’t matter where he is. Everywhere will be the same—black. There is freedom in that.

* * *


	2. Chapter two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your Chakra And You, A Helpful Guide

He doesn’t get to languish in boredom for too long. The ANBU—likely the one that brought him food, that still brings him food—takes pity on him on the third day, and gives him brisk but helpful instructions to several Chakra-control exercises.

He can’t really focus on them—yet—but he appreciates the gesture. There is still a lot to get used to, in his new life. Without the academy, and with his ANBU bringing him food, he doesn’t have to leave the Compound at all. He re-learns to walk, which takes forever, but patience is becoming something of a strength. After that, he relearns to walk slowly and deliberately—softly. It’s not a skill he had before, so it’s kind of fun to learn. If he walks slowly, he can react better to an unknown environment—and all environment is unknown environment. He is less likely to slip or trip on something, he has time to react before he bumps into a wall or a tree, or falls into a pond. All those things happen of course, but less than they used to. Visible, tangible progress is a balm.

Walking mindfully turns into moving mindfully. He slows down his hands and head and body, only moving deliberately and carefully. If you don’t know why you’re moving, then don’t move—it’s an endless mantra, but a fun one. Like a game he plays with himself. What are you doing? Where are you going? Think about everything—decide every movement. (It has the added benefit of throwing his mind away from more abstract concepts such as loneliness and fear and death. There is no space for hysteria when he has to focus on deliberately inching his hand to the doorknob.)

His Chakra is still _his_ —no matter how weak it might be. He has been strengthening his body for years—this is a variation, not a discovery. He needs to be subtler with his Chakra—gentler even.

What a wacky thought. Gentleness as a whole is a vague and threatening concept, but he has long since decided to do what works. And directing his Chakra with a gentle touch works.

It’s doubly true for sensory-enhancement. He already broke one of his five senses—he is in no hurry to do away with the rest. Until his Chakra-control is top-notch, he won’t so much as think to consciously channel it anywhere near his head. What his body pulls automatically—what his mind commanders subconsciously—is absolutely good enough.

It takes about three months, all told, to get himself to the point that he can feed, dress and clean himself in one day. That is not an insignificant accomplishment. He wonders, on some level, about his ever-decreasing intelligence, but doesn’t really have enough emotional capacity to care. He might be approaching flora-levels of placidity, but he isn’t tormented by his own mind anymore. Figures, that it would take cutting out everything to quiet down the screams.

* * *

Once he starts with the Chakra-control exercises, he’s hooked. They’re basics—leaf-sticking,branch-spinning, pebble-floating and so on.

The ANBU must be pretty disappointed—even a faulty Uchiha like himself should be able to learn such simple exercises in a day or two. And he kind of does? But?

The simpler the exercise, the easier it is to fall into it, to fall to a state that his books would call meditation. But it’s not—it’s just in-between. His mind clears of the noise, the emotions, the thoughts, the aches. His body falls away too, kind of. Or rather, it doesn’t fall away, but he can’t attach any meaning to what it’s telling him. The aching cheekbones, the stinging eyes, migraines and aches and pains—he acknowledges them, understands them, but that’s where it ends.

It’s okay that he can’t see or fight, that his biggest accomplishment in the last year was to eat, dress and bathe all in the same day. It’s okay he is alone, that he hasn’t spoken to a human in six months, and that was the awkward medic. It’s okay that he’s slow and disabled, and likely to die any day now. Whatever else—he is a part of a big whole.

He understands, viscerally, why the books always talked about kids like him being prone to addiction. Back when he first came across those ideas, he couldn’t get it. He understood the meaning of the word, without really knowing how it mapped to the real world. But it’s definitely something like this. Not exactly the same though. The books spoke about highs and lows, which is not something he recognizes. He is not happy when he is in the in-between, but he’s not sad either. Or anxious, or scared.

Its a very comforting feeling. The fact he is insignificant in the grand scheme of things is comically obvious by now. Even a mostly-braindead Academy dropout like himself can’t deny that after it was confirmed by a hundred per cent of the life-situations that have ever happened to him. For a while there, he wasn’t insignificant to Itachi—but only for so long. If he wasn’t the only Uchiha weak enough to be unable to defend his own eyes, he’s sure not even Kumo or whoever it was would bother with him.

But never mind that. The point of the exercise, as it were, was to increase his Chakra capacity. That has largely been laid to the wayside. Even if the village should decide he’s worth keeping alive, his role is pretty clear. The village won’t train him to be a Shinobi — they’re keeping him to make more Uchiha. He doesn’t need to see for that.

He isn’t all that sold on the idea of sight, anyways. When the whole thing came about, he was worried he’d be bored or at loose ends. The opposite has happened—he’s never slept better. His days go by in a pleasant fog of peaceful in-between hovering, and his ANBU makes sure he’s got food to eat and tea to drink. Sighted-world brings with it anxieties and fears and doubts—not to mention the hallucinations.

He’s fine as is, thanks.

* * *

The more he thinks about it, the more hopelessly in love he falls with the very idea of using Chakra. The concept is wild—like fairy stories come to life. He is reaching out with his spirit—his soul—and interacting with the leaf. He is touching the leaf with his soul. How he ever took it for granted is beyond him. His spirit is quite literally too large to be contained—so vibrant that it can reach out and interact with the world directly.

Eyes—hands—lips—what is that compared to his soul?

It’s a religious experience. Uchiha worship Amaterasu-Ōmikami—the more traditional types extend that to all Three Precious Children. Sasuke kind of does too? Their hand was not lightly felt—just look at Konoha. You can deny Inari-sama until your lips go blue, it won’t help you when Their nine-tailed avatar is bearing down on you to express Their displeasure.

His spiritual practices feel hollow in comparison to the awe he feels now. The more he does it, the harder it is to stop. Bit by bit he gains an awareness of the leaf he is touching. If he doesn’t simply touch it, but coat it with his Chakra, his mind projects it’s image somehow. It’s not seeing—it’s nothing like seeing, but it’s the closest comparison he’s got. An awareness.

He repeats the same process with a stick, then a rock—then a beetle.

The beetle is a strange experience. The animal has Chakra—and not at all an inconsiderable amount. It doesn’t emote as humans do, and while in the in-between Sasuke understands it, himself, and how the two are connected, how they exist in relation to one another. Great, cool, awesome, except whatever it is that he ‘gets’ in those moments, he loses it as soon as he comes up for air. He doesn’t become wise, but he does get calm. The animal doesn’t mind his gentle probing, which is a relief. It is, if anything, more relaxed, recognizing perhaps that Sasuke is at his least dangerous when he’s whittled down his existence to his spirit alone.

The animals start relaxing around him more and more as time goes by. Birds and squirrels roam the Compound freely, rabbits hop by undaunted, and the ecosystem flourishes. Even the plants seem to appreciate Sasuke’s explorations—he can’t see for himself, obviously, but he thinks they grow faster and stronger. They feel stronger to him—but that doesn’t mean much. It’s just as likely his awareness is growing.

In the few times he is forced to be in the ‘real’, he thinks back on the psychology books and is fairly relieved—as much as he can feel anything these days—that nature is re-taking the Compound. He’s read plenty about isolation, and what it can do to a developing mind. About how effective lack of human interaction is as a torture technique. Flora and fauna thriving around him—communicating with him—it keeps him from the worst of it. He isn’t what anyone would call sane. He is barely functional, as it were, but he’s content. How could he not be? The life around him thrives, and the Chakra is lovely. Animals, they have a measure of solidity, of certainty that humans can’t ever reach—at least not to Sasuke’s knowledge. Even when they’re scared, even when something will eat them, there is nothing like the fear he knows in himself, like anxiety and panic and all the ways a faulty brain can harm itself.

His ANBU is a constant presence, but Sasuke keeps his Chakra away from the man—and it is a man. A water-user, even, and a strong one at that. With Sasuke’s expanding pseudo-sight, he can feel him as a sort of cloud of Chakra, swirling and shrinking and expanding, always in movement, always mercurial. He keeps his own carefully away form his body, but not from his outward output. Plenty can be learned, he realizes, just from analyzing the immediate surrounding of humans, where their Chakra spills over into the world. It’s how he knows his ANBU is a man, how he knows his nature, and that his strongest emotional component is deep, complex sadness.

Age ten 

He is ten when his second, and rather more successful, kidnapping happens. The medic from the hospital—Yakushi, he is pretty certain—takes Sasuke from his home, after paralyzing him with a seal. What happened to Sasuke’s ANBU is anyone’s guess, but he doesn’t think it’s anything good. The medic is well-informed. He slips through the village like a ghost, avoiding any and all patrols with ease. Uchiha compound is surrounded by Nara forests on one side, and Hatake land on the other. The medic was wise to not try to sneak through them.

Being carried like a sack of rice is dull. Not painful—the medic blocked all sensation from his body—but dull. Why he felt the need to bind Sasuke so completely is anyone’s guess. If he had but asked, Sasuke would have told him he would have come quietly. What is there for him in Konoha? A slow stroll to irreversible insanity, while making babies for the village along the way. The medic probably wants him for the same reason—it doesn’t much matter where it happens. At least wherever they’re going won’t have any hallucinations of Sasuke’s massacred family.

Well, he thinks, slightly disquieted. Unless they plan to torture him—it would be very morbid to hallucinate his own torture. Is that an option? So far his mind never included Sasuke in its weird little projections so who knows? In any case, the in-between is strong enough to hold him even though near-death from dehydration, as proved by his ANBU having to shake him out of it that one time. As for the babies—he likely has a few years until puberty. Sage knows he is not going to make it until then. 

Is he worried? It seems like he should be. But the medic is—not as nice as his ANBU, but nice enough. He sticks a needle into his arm and keeps him fed and watered that way, which is just good planning. He doesn’t hurt him in any way. He deliberately avoids hurting him, in fact, which is just a novel sensation.

Without the need for food and water, he slips into the in-between state easier than ever. He envelops the man with his Chakra only once, before retreating—the act is so incredibly intimate he can’t bring himself to do it, damn the knowledge it could provide. Plus the medic might notice, which—could be bad? Maybe? To avoid any potential drama, he focuses his Chakra on the surroundings. The medic can’t run for long, for fear of detection. His route is obviously well-rehearsed—he doesn’t hesitate for so much as a minute. Sometimes they’re jumping through the trees, sometimes they’re burrowing underground. Often they’re in caves or shelters or underground bunkers—presumably to avoid the pursuit. Konoha will chase their Sharingan eyes, Sasuke has no doubt. Why the medic didn’t just remove them, is anyone’s guess. Surely it would be easier to carry two eyeballs instead of a whole boy, underfed or not.

The medic has him, all in all, for some days. More than two, less than ten. Maybe. Who knows? Sasuke sure doesn’t. There are wonderful things to explore, in the times they’re not moving. There are new species of plants, new animals, new wind-patterns. The Compound was nice but forests are paradise.

At some point, however, something kills his erstwhile kidnapper and takes Sasuke for their own. A man—a big man. Lightning natured. Kumo? Eh. Whatever. The man is even nicer than the medic. He is big enough to carry him in his arms and radiates heat like a furnace. He doesn’t bother with the needle in Sasuke’s arm, but feeds him manually, by dripping broth and tea down his throat patently. It’s wonderful. Both the tea and the broth are warm and filled with spices and herbs he has never tasted. Once, the broth was a tomato soup—imagine that. Tomatoes.

This man is not as quiet as the medic was. He hums when he feeds Sasuke, and to himself sometimes. He doesn’t talk to Sasuke, of course, but he talks to himself sometimes. A deep baritone that Sasuke likes. At night he tucks Sasuke into a blanket. The medic never really bothered with that. It’s all very quaint. Sasuke might actually like being wherever this man is taking him. Not very much—he doubts there is anywhere he will actually like very much—but enough.

Someone kills this man too. Sasuke is getting a bit exasperated by all this, honestly. Sharingan eyes or not, how quickly did it become known that Sasuke's abduction is taking place?

The fight is longer than the first. The medic was ambushed with flawless proficiency. Sasuke is pretty certain Fūinjutsu has been involved. One moment, the medic was running, the other moment he was on the ground, a man picked Sasuke up, and burned the medic to ashes.

This new group was not stealthy at all. He doesn’t see, of course, but by the sound of it, and the tidal waves of Chakra being thrown about, it must have been a real-life A-rank fight. His Kumo (?) abductor is outnumbered, though, and not by Chūnin either.

The winners—a group of five—pick up Sasuke, and run like dogs of hell are on their heels.

All five of them are fascinating people, it has to be said. Two are kid-Jōnin, and three are adult-Jōnin. Their Chakra is two-fold. Their normal, human Chakra is on top, complex, shifting and flighty. Underneath that, somehow, lies a second, discrete Chakra signature. The second one is complicated. He focuses on that part for however many days they have him. I’t so interesting, he can’t help it. It’s like they’re all two people, but one of them folded into a teeny-tiny little piece.

The Human part is dangerous and exhausting as all human Chaka is, fluctuating and nervous and changing. But this small, folded up part feels more like the rabbits do. Like it is what it is, and it makes no excuse or reason or apology for being that.

The five that are maybe ten (maybe six?) get themselves killed by his brother.

* * *


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My honest opinion and my friendly advice is this: do it or do not do it — you will regret both.

It doesn’t take long for Itachi to slaughter the (hopefully final) batch of kidnappers with, it has to be said, extreme prejudice. Sasuke has been in their care for—less than a day? Timekeeping is a normal-person thing, not a Sasuke-thing. They haven’t fed him once or stopped to rest, he’s pretty sure, which is a decent enough indicator.

Itachi’s Chakra is unmistakable. Sasuke senses him coming from a kilometre away. A golden-warm sensation blooms from bellow his sternum and spreads through his body like syrupy roots. It could be joy? He can’t quite place it. Even before this specific tragedy of errors, physical existence has grown increasingly irrelevant. But! He hasn’t seen Itachi in many years. There is no need to escape the shackles of his body just yet.

A tendril of Itachi’s Chakra shoots straight into the brain of the man carrying him, doing—something. Oh, is that what Genjutsu looks like? The foreign Chakra pulses and swirls in the brain of the poor man, overpowering it in just under a heartbeat.

Sasuke expects it but is still a little surprised when the man shifts his hold on Sasuke, adjusts him so he is held comfortably, before falling back without warning, breaking off from the group.

Many things happen very close together. Itachi is there. The four remaining Shinobi attack without pause or posturing. They immediately call on their secondary-Chakra, which grows exponentially to the point that Sasuke can’t quite be sure they didn’t straight up detonate themselves. Someone invented that technique, he marvels. He can’t even conceptualize the level of Chakra-mastery it would take to store so much in such a small, unobtrusive little pocket.

Secondary Chakra (or is it primary, considering how much bigger it was than the human part?) doesn’t help them much. The battle, such as it is, lasts about ten seconds, nine of which the five men spend dying. The flames Itachi conjures are—something. Sasuke is damn impressed. The Chakra-pocket is still cooler, but only just. Whatever Itachi did to make these flames, they are fascinating and a whole lot scarier. They are not Chakra—they look to be its polar opposite? Maybe? An explosion of energy that nullifies other energy, draws it in and destroys it? Okay, no, that’s stupid, energy can’t be destroyed—holy Sage, what then is this? 

What a freaky, freaky technique. The man holding him kneels on the ground, docile as you please, Chakra flat and serene. Itachi plucks Sasuke from his hands and walks away. Behind them, the man—kills himself somehow? He is a tiny bit distracted, what with his long-lost brother carrying him in his arms, but the man’s life-signature winks out.

A thrill of something a lot like excitement sweeps through his body. Without hesitation, he grips his Chakra firmly and spreads a thin film of it over Itachi. Doing such things with strangers might have been invasive and unbearably intimate but this is Itachi. This is his brother. The only person to ever spare a single thought to Sasuke’s continued existence.

The projection he gets is the sharpest one he’s yet produced. He can ‘see’ each individual eyelash on his brother’s pretty face. He is pretty sure Itachi hasn’t changed much, but honestly, he might have. This isn’t sight, this is much more precise than seeing. Not to mention that he ‘sees’ him fully, a three-dimensional projection. The only thing he can really place is that his brother was taller, leaner and broader. Even his hair is the same, long and thick, pulled back into a loose ponytail.

His exploration might have been gentle and unobtrusive, but Itachi is an S-ranked Shinobi. He stiffens, tenses, blanketing him with his own Chakra right back. Sasuke feels his lips twitching. What an unnecessary, brutish move. Like dousing a spark with a lake. He lets the heavy torrent fall as it would, and lets it see the truth of it. If ever there was a pacifist Chakra, it’s Sasuke’s. A nice, probably unintended, side-effect is that with how much their Chakra is mixing, Aniki’s emotions are laid bare.

Slightly detached, he laments just how intense Aniki is. Love is predominant, which is a somewhat unexpected but very welcome development. True to form, Itachi’s love is the burning, fanatical sort. Sasuke hasn’t been around many cultists, but if he had to guess how their souls would feel, he can’t believe they would be any worse than this. Right behind the fanaticism are the darker, wilder emotions—and what a strange thought that is. There’s worry, a seething, corrosive flavour of rage, shock, pain, and a great, big ocean of self-hatred.

Damn. Sasuke doesn’t envy his brother at all. Sasuke’s go at raving lunacy mostly consisted of fear and loneliness, with some familial-duty driven hatred sprinkled on top. Even at his absolute lowest, he didn’t feel a tenth of this horror-show. A hundredth. And considering Sasuke at the time was so filled with emotions he wanted to tear his skin away in tiny little strips, Itachi must be ready to burn the world to ashes, just to get some rest.

When they’re a little bit away from the charred corpses, Itachi sets Sasuke’s prone body to the ground and starts talking at him. Sasuke ignores the words, still studying Itachi’s beautiful nightmare of a mind. The harsh cadence and the creepy monotone might be really impressive, but Sasuke’s Chakra is wrapped up with Itachi so tightly, they’re practically the same person. Sasuke can taste his emotions on his tongue, feel them skitter up and down his arms.

Still very much paralyzed, he lays where he is laid and waits it out. Itachi is an unpredictable creature, bless his little heart. Sasuke hopes he will release him from the paralyzing seal, but he’s not that fussed either way. Whatever happens, happens.

Indecision floods the coal/flame/blood/pain of Itachi’s Chakra, joined quickly by a barely functional shade of concern. Concern for Sasuke—how lovely! The rest of it is less lovely—Itachi should be at least nominally an adult. How had he survived all these years if he can’t make such a simple decision?

In the end, the neurotic tragedy decides to un-seal him. His Chakra surges, some of it distinctly directed to the eyes. Sasuke can practically hear the tomoe spinning, while the very texture of it changes. Tenses, if pure energy could tense or relax. It’s somewhat familiar—conscious use or not, Sasuke is still burdened with two Sharingan eyes in his head. He recognizes the strange effect, even if it is much, much less obvious in Sasuke.

Itachi does—something,likely really impressive, and suddenly Sasuke is not paralyzed anymore.

Abused muscles make their displeasure known, in part by vibrating hard enough he’s pretty sure he having a seizure, and in part by flooding his body with an alarming amount of pain. He is probably not going to die, he thinks, but it’s not a sure thing. He is tempted—so tempted—to fling his mind away, and come back when every single nerve isn’t screaming at him. But—Itachi is here. He breathes out slowly, admiring the bizarre wheeze rattling around his ribcage.

Itachi’s Chaka folds into itself, almost audibly sobbing in distress. With an admirably steady hand, he reaches forward and removes his blindfold. Credit where credit’s due—no matter the inner turmoil, the boundless depths of hysteria, his hand doesn’t shake. That, there, is an excellent Shinobi.

For a second he can see his brother’s beautiful, terrified face, arranged in a stoic facade. It’s a good facade! People who don’t know him would definitely be fooled. He really is the best of them. Hallucinations snap to life around him, Aniki’s smiles, Aniki’s frowns, a kind word, a gentle touch.

Sasuke smiles—he can’t talk yet. What he can do is turn his face into Itachi’s hand, and nuzzle it as best he can. He smells the same too, like blood and warmth/flame/coal but also tea and silk. Sasuke’s hurdling towards unconsciousness but he can maybe—

He channels what’s left of his Chakra into a warm blanket-hug. It caresses his brother once, twice—

He passes out pretty soon after that.

* * *

When he wakes up, he is in a cave. Correction—they are in a cave. Itachi sits not half a meter away, curled into a shockingly undignified ball. His head is buried in his arms that he wrapped around his knees. He feels—hectic. Some type of anxiety attack is either in the immediate future or immediate past.

Interestingly, Sasuke’s Chakra-film is still stretched over Itachi’s body. Even in sleep, Sasuke’s soul knows its priorities, he thinks with no little pride. How fantastic is that?

Alright, that about covers Aniki, but what about Sasuke? His clothes are changed, which is—fine? A bit creepy, maybe, but his clothes were rags, and he hasn’t had many opportunities to bathe. He is clean too, which he also chooses not to be upset by. The needle in his arm is removed, which is a solid strike in the ‘pro’ column, but so is his blindfold, which is definitely one for the ‘con’. 

“Aniki,” he says, and the novelty of hearing his voice shocks him into muteness. He didn’t know for sure he could speak, anymore. “It’s been a long time.” His voice is surprisingly strong—he suspects healing of some sort took place. Even the constant pain around his eyes isn’t as strong as it used to be. 

Itachi doesn’t flinch—doesn’t even breathe—but his Chakra howls in pain.

“It’s okay, don’t be sad.”

It doesn’t help—Sasuke didn’t expect it would. Words are cheap things. What it does, is send Itachi straight into the anxiety attack he was staving off. Okay, then. Sasuke sits quietly, forcibly relaxing his mind as much as possible. When Itachi wants him he will let him know.

“What did they do to you Sasuke?” Itachi sounds so—small. It doesn’t suit him. Although, he had just emerged on the other side of an intense self-loathing episode, so who is Sasuke to judge?

“Who?” Many people did many things to Sasuke.

Itachi’s Chakra howls again, this time less self-harming and more rage/hunger/fire-and-brimstone/bring about the end of days and spit in the eye of the Shinigami type thing.

“Who has harmed you.”

“Oh—you mean since—?”

“Yes.”

Sasuke hums, a little unfairly amused at the dichotomy of the practised monotone and the dizzying hurricane of feelings barely kept in check. “Oh. Well. Depends on what you mean by harm.” He pauses and decides this not a lying-down type of conversation. “I will explain, but first, can you get me my blindfold? I can’t really have my eyes open or I will pass out. As you know.”

Itachi does. He even helps him sit up. Healing or not, Sasuke is a skinny little twig of a wild-child. He didn’t have much weight to lose before the five-day fast.

“Thanks, Aniki. So—the harming. Well—I was kidnapped once when I was—nine? I think? Umm, the nice ANBU with water-Chakra and possibly a Dōjutsu saved me. But whoever took me took out my eyes. The medics put them back, but they didn’t do it right? I think? I don’t know, nobody really explained. Anyways, I can't turn off my Sharingan since then, so I wear the blindfold. Keeps the lids closed.”

Talking is kind of awesome, actually. Not for always, of course, but a little? Great fun. His voice is nice too—kind of squeaky. Like a mouse. A rusty mouse. Squeak.

“Umm, they put me back to the Compound then for—I don’t know, until now I guess? Then the medic took me, the medic from the hospital with the glasses. Someone with lightning-Chakra killed the medic and took me. Then the five people with two Chakra signatures each killed him, and of course, you killed them.”

He can't do anything else but smile—sure the whole kidnapping thing was uncomfortable, but it was also fun in a way. He got to Chakra-feel a lot of things, and nobody hurt him, not really. It wasn’t precisely nicer than the Compound, but not worse either.

Itachi is quiet for a long time after that. He gives him food, though, and tea. Sasuke can’t really feed himself, and he would rather just sit quietly and observe Itachi’s Chakra—or his own, or the worms’. But Aniki is so gentle with him, and his hands are so warm, that he has to repay that.

“You—you go to the Academy, do you not? Are you graduating soon?”

There is a lost quality to Itachi’s voice that matches well the way his Chaka turned wispy, unfocused, without any of the concentrated weight of before.

“Oh, no, they can’t have blind children in the Academy. No, they kicked me out the same day I got kidnapped.”

They sit in silence, and this time Sasuke doesn’t resist the temptation to fall into the in-between state and sort of—drift about aimlessly. Itachi is a human without compare to be certain but is still a human. He feels so much so loudly, his Chakra is so big and exhausting. Sasuke needs a little time for himself.

He sinks down and out and spreads his soul around his empty body. For a while, he doesn’t do anything more than make abstract shapes with his Chakra. Then it’s time to see if there are any animal-friends he can make. The more complex animals need longer to get accustomed to Sasuke but simpler animals like insects or spiders or lizards are usually pretty relaxed around him.

Indeed, a phenomenal little green lizard climbs across Sasuke-body, nestling in the hollow of his collarbone, leeching his warmth. It’s a rainy day, outside, and the Autumn is in full swing. Sasuke kind of thought that lizards hibernate, but there we are.

“-ke, can you hear me? Sasuke—”

Itachi’s voice is gaining both volume and emotion. Sage.

He seeps back into his body just in time to enjoy a Chakra jolt.

“I’m fine, Aniki,” he says. “I was meditating.” He was not.

“You were not.” Itachi’s voice shakes audibly, which is a major red flag. The way his Chakra is about to bring the cave down on their heads is another. “But moving on. Konoha. What do you—do you miss home? Are you scared? Hurt?”

Sasuke smiles a little. It’s lovely, how easily all this is coming back—how quickly he is getting back his facial expressions and talking.

“I am not scared. I don’t feel much, these days. I am not hurt—which, thank you for the healing. Sorry, I forgot to say that before. Umm—ah yes. Home. Do you mean the Compound? If so, no, I can’t say I miss it. I’m good here if you need to leave. You don’t have to stay with me. I’m sure you have, like, work to do or something.”

“Here—as in, right here?” There goes the pretence of a monotone, and Itachi’s Chakra shifts into the same blend of howling/hungry/eat/kill/destroy. It’s impressive but it gives Sasuke a headache. “The cave? You—”

“I’m fine, Aniki. It was rough for a little while there, but ever since I started meditating, everything is golden. Plus the nice ANBU made sure I had food to eat and tea to drink. No need to stress. It can’t be good for you.”

“You’re not meditating, Sasuke.” Wow—it must be legitimately hard to speak through a jaw that clenched. He can smell blood. Wha—Ah. Itachi dug wounds into his own palms. “You’re doing something else. It’s not—you can’t—”

Sasuke huffs a little, honestly amused. “Hey, so, one thing. Note how I’m not on your case for killing Mikoto and Fugaku and the babies and running away? How about you do the same, and let me meditate in peace?”

Itachi’s entire Chakra-cloud flinches, which is something Sasuke didn’t know could happen. Outwardly he remains more or less the same, but a lot of the more outward-facing hatred swiftly turns inward.

“You’re harming yourself, Sasuke. You—”

That’s it.

“I love you Aniki, but it’s a bit too late to really have a say in this. Now, if you would excuse me, there is a lizard here that I would like to make friends with.”

With that, he sinks back into himself, and wisps outwards, until his awareness covers about a hundred meters around them. It’s nice—being so big. He is aware of Itachi’s slumped figure, and wretched Chakra, but he is also aware of the happy baby-squirrel, and the fox eating a nest of hedgehogs, and of a particularly stupid snake about to be eaten by an owl.

He does feel a twinge of guilt—he was pretty harsh on Aniki. But if they wanted Sasuke socialized, they could have talked to him once or twice in the last five years.

* * *

Itachi sits there for the rest of the sun-cycle and the moon-cycle, only pausing to make some tea, and eat some rabbit-barbecue. Sasuke’s body is fine, but he makes sure to seep back into it for long enough to drink a little.

When the morning comes, Itachi jolts him again, which—rude. He didn’t even try to talk to him this time.

“Alright. Help me understand—please. What happened. I understand the blindfold and the eyes. The rest—how did it—when did you start doing this to yourself?”

“Oh.” Hm. “Well—I was pretty messed up, since y’know. That night. Something in my brain broke, is my best guess. I was hallucinating constantly. Memories and stuff. Umm—I tried to keep it a secret from the village, but I think they knew because they were very happy to leave me in the Compound until it was time to make babies.”

Itachi’s Chakra lashes out, and actual sparks start coming off his fingers. Wow—he’s never seen such a physical manifestation of Chakra caused by emotion. Would water-natured Shinobi drip?

“Anyway, that’s when things started going—weird. I was in the compound all the time. Not that I had much going on elsewhere, to be fair.My ANBU—the one who saved me and brought me back my eyes—taught me some Chakra-control exercises. He also brought me food and hot chocolate and tea and stuff, which was nice. So. Yeah. That’s it, really. There’s not much more to say.”

“Let me just—” Itachi inhales slowly, with expert breath-control. His Chakra is—odd, like he’s manually building a fence around it, or he’s sectioning it off or something. “Indulge me, please. Just to make sure I have the shape of things.”

“Sure.” He busies himself slowly trying to pinpoint where the smell of tea is coming from. He could possibly try to find it with his Chakra, but it’s pretty spent by now. He’s been stretching it a little last night.

“Here, let me—” Itachi’s voice is effortlessly kind, the exact shade Sasuke remembers from when they were kids. Well—smaller kids than they are now. Sasuke takes a sip of tea, and warmth spreads through his body. Staying anchored in his body becomes that much easier.

“Thank you, Aniki.”

Itachi really needs to meditate a little himself. Sasuke is getting pretty tired of his Chakra howling endlessly.

“To recap please, Sasuke. You were—left alone, in the Compound for the past—five years? After your first kidnapping, you were removed from the Academy and locked inside the Compound alone, with only the ANBU for company.”

“And the animals.” He points out. “And the plants.”

“Right, right. Other than the wildlife and the ANBU nobody came to visit you? Not the Hokage, not the medics? Not even for a checkup?”

“Mmm. That’s right.” He nods, satisfied. Although— “They could have visited secretly, I suppose. I doubt it—I am pretty good at sensing Chakra, especially within a hundred meters of my body.”

“And you would rather not return? To the point that you would rather be in this cave alone than go back there?”

Hmmm. “Thing is—I don’t want to have sex, Aniki. And I’m pretty sure that’s what would happen if Konoha takes me back. I am crazy by pretty much every definition of the term. They can lock me up in an asylum, seize Uchiha property and move on. I don’t really know why they haven’t done that already.”

“Oh, I have a few ideas.” Itachi’s tone is quickly edging into murder-territory again.

“Seriously, Aniki, you need to calm down. You’re really strong, you know. Your Chakra—it’s giving me a headache. I’m trying to stay with you, but I can’t if it keep screaming at me.”

“You—you’re a sensor?”

“I don’t know what that means. But since I can’t see, I became more aware of Chakra. I use it to move around and stuff. And to talk to animals and plants. Like this here little guy.” He points to the little lizard, dozing in his collarbone. “They like my Chakra.”

On the upside, Itachi is less murderous. On the downside, it slips back to intense self-loathing. Are those the only two options? ‘Cause violence makes his head hurt which is bad, but now his heart hurts, and that’s worse.

“Alight,” Itachi says, voice slipping into an impersonal cadence. He must be gearing up to bring up something unpleasant. “Alight. Alright—Sasuke. Do you—do you remember—that night—”

He has to bite down an incredulous laugh. “I hallucinate memories, Aniki. I remember everything. Every time I walk down the Compound I would see dead people taking, bleeding, laughing, fighting.”

Itachi shudders, both Chakra and body. His voice wavers, but he forges on—kind of. “I never wanted to—but I have to—”

Sage wept.

“Listen, if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. I am over it. When it comes down to it, if I had to choose between them and you, I would choose you, so. It’s not the end of the world.”

Itachi’s hysterical strangled chuckles wheeze out for a long time. Sasuke thinks there is something he should do about it, but the pain in Aniki’s Chakra is too much. “I need to go away now.” He says under his breath and sinks.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> movement&action&new friends

“We can’t return to Konoha just yet.” Says Itachi when he slips back into his body. “I—” Something catches in his brother’s throat, and Sasuke can feel him strain to continue, to say something, to explain.

“Alright,” he says, a bit fascinated by this man who is perhaps even crazier than Sasuke is. Maybe it’s genetic? “Do you want me to come with you, or am I staying here?”

“With me.” Says Itachi quietly. “I—I’m sorry. If things were different I wouldn’t force my presence on you, but—”

Sasuke makes sure his snort is not just internal, but physical as well. “You are the only person who ever cared for me, Aniki. I love you. Why wouldn’t I want to be with you?”

Itachi breathes for a sequence of heartbeats, while his Chakra expands and collapses with him like a giant lung of pain. “Thank you, Sasuke. Now. We need to find a woman, a woman that might help us. She’s—she’s—”

“So no Konoha, then?”

This time when Itachi struggles to speak, it’s not difficult to pinpoint the cause. The man is literally shaking with rage, jerking with these strange full-body shudders. He’s trying, bless. It’s a very commendable effort, too, considering how much Chakra he has. Instead of lashing about and destroying everyone and everything, Aniki’s Chakra sits leashed, barely kept underneath his skin, restless and seething.

“Not—not yet. I— There’s a lot you don’t know and I—”

Sasuke raises his hands slowly, in roughly the correct direction. “Don’t hurt yourself. Aniki. I don’t care. I’m good anywhere.”

Somehow that fails to help. The animal pain in Aniki’s voice matches the wounded howl of his spirit. “Yes. Yes, I can see that. Senju-hime will help us. And after that—we will see.”

“Cool.” He pauses for a second. “Are we leaving now or? Because there are a bunch of Koi about to get born and I’d love to see that. So. Are we good here for another couple of hours?”

It’s unclear if this helps soothe Itachi, or if it shatters him into a million shards of bitter pain, but he deflates, body sagging without the whirlwind of emotion to keep it going. “Whatever you want, Sasuke.” Huh. That, there is complete honesty. A hundred per cent pure devotion.

Uchiha brothers, Ladies and Gentlemen. Not a spoonful of sanity to be found between them.

“Thanks, Aniki.”

* * *

It turns out finding the Senju princess is easy as pie. Sasuke doesn’t really involve himself in the proceedings. Itachi agrees to carry him while he floats in the in-between—he even carries him on his back piggyback-style. Sasuke is honestly touched by the gesture. It’s been so long since he was plastered to a warm back. He can physically feel Aniki’s heartbeat, leech his warmth, chew on how he had managed to keep his skin so soft. It’s nice.

He’s still floating when they find her, in a small village somewhere irrelevant. Sasuke can, frankly, sense her from a kilometre away, that’s how large, loud and proud her Chakra is. She’s a storm-bright presence, very strong, very Hokage-like. Her water-and-dirt Chakra hugs everyone and anyone around her.

Sasuke shivers in delight—this is the first person he’s met whose Chakra instinctively reaches out to soothe. There are other people around—irrelevant—and he is pretty certain that some sort of mass genjutsu takes place because nobody runs screaming once infamous murderer Itachi Uchiha strolls into the village in the light of day, with a blind, underfed twelve-year-old clinging to his back.

The conversation is—turbulent for everyone. Well—everyone except for Sasuke, because he runs away as soon as Chakra started howling and crying. There is no need for him to be there when there is a family of snails not fifty meters away that have just found themselves a fresh leaf to snack on. He strokes them fondly, connecting to their Chakra and leeching some of their unflappable calm. That’s another thing—where human Chakra-cloud shifts and bends and twirls, animal Chakra tends to stay in a neat sphere around them, very rarely changing.

From the baby-snail he jumps to a carp, swimming along peacefully, not a single concern in the world. Then a spider, then a squirrel—

Then Itachi jolts him back.

He oozes back and shakes his head a little. They’ve changed spots. They’re now in a room somewhere. Aniki is there, as well as the Senju princess, and another kid-Jōnin person. A girl—earth natured.

“Sasuke, meet Senju-hime and Shizune-san. She—I informed her of our situation, and—”

“Your brother tells me you’ve been kicked about by the fools in that cursed cesspool?” Interrupts the lady. “I can see he wasn’t exaggerating. I need to examine you, and him.”

“That is not necessary—” “Sure.” Sasuke talks over Aniki’s—rather weak—protest. “My eyes are messed up. They were removed once, and the medics in the hospital re-attached them wrong.”

The Lady is quiet for a moment. She could have looked irritated or impatient, but Sasuke can see she’s anything but. Whatever focusing technique she’s using is fantastic, because her spirit is little more than hysteria and a betrayed flavour of grief. With all that in mind, it’s damn impressive her voice is as even as it is. “That’s not the only thing I’m worried about, kid.” She says. “Your eyes, Sage help me, are not even in my top ten list of things you need fixed.”

“Whatever Aniki thinks is best. He speaks for me in all things. ” He shifts slightly to turn his head in Itachi’s direction. It’s so weird, to have to indicate which person you’re talking to—it’s been so long since he was in such a big group. “I’m going to go away, Aniki.”

“No, Sasuke—”

Like hell is he going to remain here while some strange woman inserts her Chakra into his body. Uh-uh, no way. Aniki thinks it's for the best, and Sasuke doesn’t really care either way, but he has better things to do with his soul than let it stew in his meat-sack.

* * *

He manages to stay away through the horridly invasive process of the Lady’s Chakra rummaging around his body and changing things. He goes as far away as he can, pushes the limit of his reach and settles into an anthill. Ants are a rare indulgence for him, one he tries to keep for special occasions like these because they’re terrifying just as much as they are thrilling. Their signatures are individual and tangibly connected at the same time. Each Ant-hill typically has millions of tiny sparks flowing in and out of one large, interwoven Chakra-signature.

It is—beyond fascinating. The sparks are relatively simple, just an animal going about its business, enjoying a fulfilling life. Their collective presence is a different matter altogether. An ant-hill is a chillingly complex entity, with enough will-power to topple mountains. They have drive, more than any other living being he’s yet observed. Ambitious, even though that’s an incredibly diminished term for what they actually are. Wise perhaps? Enlightened?

The ants keep him happy for a good few hours, beyond the time the medic stops invading his body with her soul. He has no reason to return just yet—Aniki isn’t calling him. He’s good here, thanks.

* * *

In the end, they stay in healer-Lady’s rooms for three weeks. It’s a weird time. He doesn’t really ask, but he gets the feeling many plans are made and abandoned during it.

The first hurdle is relatively straightforward, as much as Sasuke understands these things. The Lady has a paralyzing fear of blood, and can’t bring herself to heal them directly. The solution—that she will guide her apprentice who will do it for her—seems simple enough, but it wasn’t to be. The first time the Lady performs a full medical scan on both of them, everything goes to hell. Her Chakra roars in outrage and not a little fear, and the strange sort of arguing begins. Since both Aniki and, evidently, the Lady are very much given to self-recrimination, they can’t bear to accuse anyone other than themselves, all the while defending the other. It would be delightful if both their Chakra wasn’t drenched in anguish thick enough to make Sasuke want to puke.

“Don’t—stay here, Uchiha-kun,” says the apprentice. “Please. What you’re doing—it’s harming you. It’s—you think it’s meditation but it’s not. Do you know what Genjutsu means?”

He cocks his head at her. It’s slightly alien, trying to deliberately emphasize his body language again after all these years of near-complete isolation. “I’m an Uchiha, like it or not. I know what Genjutsu is.”

“You’re casting Genjutsu on yourself. It’s—really dangerous.”

Ooooh. Interesting.

“Is that what I’ve been doing? _Huh_. Why is that dangerous? I’ve been doing it for years.” Plus, let’s be real. An average Uchiha spent at least ten per cent of each day under the influence of one Genjutsu or another. How harmful could it really be?

The apprentice—Shizune!—shifts in her seat. Her Chakra isn’t nervous,it’s sad, and maybe a bit anxious. “You’re doing it too much, and with an untested Genjutsu. We don’t know what exactly you’re doing to yourself, but brains aren’t meant to be manipulated day in and day out for years. As it is, I can’t imagine you will escape permanent brain damage. Maybe we can heal some of it but? I don’t know.”

“Hmmm,” he says, not agreeing or disagreeing for now. “And the rest—the hallucinations, depression, suicidality?”

Her Chakra lurches forward and is yanked back just as forcefully. Wow, that must have been unpleasant.

“Hallucinations?” Says the Lady, de-railing the not-argument she’s having with Aniki. “What hallucinations? Is that the side-effect of the eye-trauma?”

“Oh no.” He turns around to face her. “No, the hallucinations started after Aniki killed everyone. They’re visual—and auditory I suppose. Like projections of memories, triggered by the place where the memory happened. They’re pretty—life-like. I couldn’t tell them apart from the real stuff at all. Still can’t.”

The Lady is quiet for a long second and judging by her Chakra she’s having some silent-communication moment with Aniki. “And you didn’t mention this because?”

He shrugs. “I don’t see them when my blindfold is on. That’s a pretty good deal. No Chakra exhaustion, no visual reminders of dead family members. Nobody wants me to do anything for them other than have sex sometime in the future. Since Aniki doesn’t need me to have sex, even that problem is done away with. So. S’good.”

Things don’t calm down after that, which was perhaps foreseeable but is no less exhausting for it. He sends an apologetic grimace in the girl-assistant’s direction, before sinking in, out and away. Brain damage or no, all this aggression and emotion is not good for his stress-levels. He’s spent years free of all that human nonsense.

* * *

When he resurfaces again, it’s clear the adults haven’t really progressed much with their plans.

“So what’s the problem?” He asks the only other semi-calm human in the room.

“Your Aniki—and you—you need surgery. Real help. Scans, beds, IV-drips. Operating halls. Umm. They can’t figure out where to get that.”

“Because they don’t want to return to Konoha?”

“Umm. It turns out there’s this man, who is very powerful. He is behind your Clan’s destruction. He ordered it.” The girl fidgets desperately and sounds like she will start crying any minute now. “Listen, _I_ shouldn’t be the one telling you this—I don’t even _know_ you—”

Alright. Everyone is crazy around here. “Listen, you all need to stop worrying about me and start worrying about yourselves. I’m fine—I’m over the murders. If talking about this is stressing you out this much, why not just—skip it. We’re not here to talk about my problems.”

“You’re not fine—you’re very much not fine Uchiha-kun—both of you—you’re manipulating your brain, Uchiha-kun—that’s—”

“Let’s not pretend my spiritual practices are the real problem here. I’m happy as I am, you know. The eye-thing, sure, it means a lot to Aniki, and I don’t care enough to mind. But the rest of it—come on.”

Shizune breathes forcefully for a full minute, before speaking again. “You are right. Your coping mechanisms are not the most pressing issue. Your eyes and your brother’s lungs are. After that, we will see about the rest.”

Lungs?

“Is Aniki sick?”

“Very seriously so. He’s—there’s hope still but—he needs surgery. Complex, invasive surgery that needs vast resources and a long recuperation period. ”

Sasuke thinks about this for a little while. The thought is just so odd—Aniki is so strong, and yes, crazy, but larger than life. Such a mundane hardship to have happened to an almost-supernatural figure.

“If he needs a village,” he says slowly. “And we can’t go to Konoha, is there another village we can go to? For the machines and instruments and protection and whatnot?”

Shizune sighs, and is about to answer when Tsunade’s Chakra freezes. “We-ell.” She says slowly. “There’s an idea.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen don't judge me i know i should have a regular update shedule, but i also don't have a spine and i can't not post just because i should wait for the weekend so there


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spirit sense

So it turns out the Senju princess is Tsunade Senju, one of the Sanin. He knows about her, of course. Every child in the Elemental Nations knows about the Sanin.

Because she is who she is, she’s got _connections_. Namely one of her teammates, the one that left—has since founded his own village. The village hidden in the Sound.

A silly name, absolutely, but Sasuke tries not to hold it against him. It’s definitely an accomplishment. Sasuke doesn’t know how one goes about creating a Hidden Village, but it can’t be simple. 

Itachi’s Chakra has calmed down some. Not because of anything concrete, he doesn’t think. Sasuke is pretty sure his brother has simply overwhelmed himself to such a degree that most of his higher brain functions have shut down. He follows Senju-hime’s command to the letter, which is kind of cute. Like a little duckling following its mother.

The comparison is even better because Senju-hime, loud voice and gruff manners aside, is one of nature’s mothers. Her Chakra—enormous, many times the size of Aniki’s—is warm and thick and constantly reaching for her student, Itachi, even Sasuke. He allows it, even plays with it a little bit. How could he not? It’s so caring. Itachi’s Chakra, for all that is single-mindedly devoted to Sasuke, is definitely violent and sharp. Not Senju-hime’s. Hers is made to help, comfort and heal.

(Her apprentice, though, is definitely more in Itachi’s lane than her Master’s. It’s a bit of a shame—but what does he know. Maybe sharp Chakra is necessary for like, surgery or something?)

“We will be in Oto soon,” says Tsunade, during their nightly healing-session. “Orochimaru is—well. Don’t agree to anything if your brother or I aren’t there.”

Sasuke hums, distracted. He’s slowly getting better at staying in his body while this all takes place, mostly because the Princess jolts him whenever he tries to slip away. It’s not impossible to stay away even through the jolt, but it would be pretty rude. Plus her reasoning—that he needs to be present to tell her if something doesn’t feel right—checks out.

“So your teammate is a Kage? That’s cool.”

Tsunade snorts bitterly, but with a great deal of tired amusement too. “Yeah. We thought for a while—but never mind. He turned out to be the most honest out of the three of us.”

Eouch.

“Sounds like an interesting guy. You must be really proud.” He tries, a little desperate for something to say.

“I guess I am.” Some of the tired, toxic grief lifts. “We’ll see how this goes. I can’t guarantee he will help us.”

Sasuke can’t help but huff in amusement. “People very rarely help others, in my experience. I certainly don’t expect anything from your Kage-teammate.” He pauses. “Or from you.” He adds, a little deliberate, focusing some of his hopelessly wispy attention. “You don’t have to help us. I don’t know what Aniki said, but he’s very scared, and he’s lashing out. I am grateful and all that, but you do you. If this is too much or it's harming you or something, you can split, no hard feelings.”

Tsunade sighs, but her Chakra ripples in a strange way. “It’s complicated, kid. But there are some things you can’t just let go. Once you reach a certain point, the excuse ‘not my circus, not my monkeys’ stops working, y’know? What happened to you—what happened to your brother—it’s not forgivable.”

“You don’t have to forgive anything though. What does that even mean? But you don’t have to harm yourself just because stuff happened. That makes no sense.”

Tsunade huffs but pats his head. “You’re a sweet kid. I can’t figure out how, but there we are. Never mind me, I’m a grown-ass woman, I can handle myself. Oro will help us because he knows an opportunity when it falls into his lap. You and your brother are both prizes, and just because Konoha was stupid enough to drive you to—this—doesn’t mean he will be.”

Sasuke thinks about this for a long moment—he can’t see how two half-dead, insane Shinobi are prizes other than in the eyeball sense—or in the reproduction sense, which Sasuke doesn’t really want to think about.

“If you say so.”

“I do. Now. Let’s talk about your Chakra pool, how its six times the size it should be and how that is not a good thing.”

* * *

Tsunade-sama—

(“Just call me Tsunade, kid—”, “Sasuke, you will do no such thing. Senju-hime is the Head of the Senju and—”, “Should I call you Uchiha-sama then, brat? Now pipe down—” )

—holds a summoning contract. Sasuke realizes this one day when a miraculous Chakra pops into existence a meter away from him while he’s soul-stalking a grasshopper. He is so surprised by this development, he jolts out of his not-meditation and falls over into a pile of joints and bones.

Tsunade-sama huffs, “Oh, you’ve sensed Katsuyu? Katsuyu, this is the little Uchiha, the one with the hallucinations. That is the big Uchiha, the one with tuberculosis.”

Sasuke stares blindly in the direction of the Chakra beacon, so calm and soothing and—

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He says, dazed. “Your Chakra—it’s so smooth and calm—but it’s—how are you—there’s more of you?” Her Chakra feels a little like the ants, like she’s a small part of a big whole.

Tsunade-sama barks a short, delighted laugh. “Well-met, Uchiha-san.” Lady Katsuyu’s voice is just as pretty as her Chakra is, tinkling and fresh, like a fire-fly. “Thank you. I haven’t met many Uchiha sensors. You must be special yourself.”

He shakes his head absently, sunning himself in the warmth of her Chakra. “It’s nothing—I’m functionally blind, so my sense of Chakra expanded to compensate. There’s some other stuff too, but that’s not important.”

The body the spirit resides in resembles loosely that of a slug—a big one at that. Even her slime-trail is crackling with Chakra, that’s how lovely she is.

“Look at you, little charmer,” says Tsunade-sama with a laugh in her voice. “I can’t say I expected that reaction—but in retrospect, it doesn’t surprise me. I have a favour to ask of Katsuyu so I have to interrupt your—whatever this is. But I will try to summon her as often as I can. In fact,” she pauses, a jolt of satisfaction rippling through her Chakra. “It can be incentive to stay in your own head. Deal?”

“ _Deal_.” He says, not hesitating a moment. The animals and the plants are lovely, but Lady Katsuyu was—a Noble Spirit.

He tunes out their conversation and focuses on the wonder before him as best he can while he’s limited with his body. Her Chakra-bubble was large—larger than Tsunade’s by a lot, covering about thirty meters every which way. But the colour and the taste of it, the un-interrupted, faintly glittering sphere—it is stunning. He reaches out, cautiously with his own Chakra and pokes it as politely as he can. Her Chakra responds immediately, poking his back just as gently, with a faint impression of a vast, alien intelligence amused at the silly mortal.

He can feel a blush heating up his cheeks—he was never acknowledged like this. Humans couldn’t sense him, and animals didn’t care.

“Sorry.” He says, uncertain if he was terribly rude.

“No need for apologies, Uchiha-san.” Says Katsuyu. “You were just saying hello. I commend you on your spirit-sense. It’s not something I expected to see on this plane.”

Spirit-sense. That’s a nice-sounding term. Hmm.

* * *

Tsunade-sama’s teammate meets them before they reach his Village. He’s—pretty stealthy actually. Much more so than Aniki, and that’s saying something because his Chakra is humongous. The adults talk to each other and nobody really pays Sasuke any mind.

Teammate-who-is-possibly-Orochimaru-the-Snake-Sanin is a delightful presence. His Chakra, for one, is really settled for a human. It doesn’t twirl and twist anywhere near as much as Sasuke has come to expect. It’s also very dark—predatory. And familiar? Why is it so familiar?

“Oh—you are the one who can fold up your Chakra real small and plant it in other people.” Whoops—he said that part out loud. “Sorry,” he says under his breath. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. Please, continue.”

“No, no,” Orochi-hiko (?) says with a note of interest winding though his raspy voice. “I don’t mind. What was that you said? Fold my Chakra?”

Aniki’s Chakra ripples with apprehension at the same time Tsunade’s—relaxes. She must recognize the curiosity.

“Umm. The group that took me—after the lightning-Jōnin—they had your Chakra? Underneath theirs? It was folded up all tidy, until it expanded and became really, really big. It was really neat to see. Or, well, sense.”

“What an astute child you are, Uchiha-san.” Says Orochi-hiko, and his Chakra sort of—hums. It’s really odd—where most people-Chakra emotes through shape and colour and movement, Orochi-hiko’s is sound-based. Maybe that’s why he called his Village Otogakure?

“Thank you, Orochi-hiko.” He says, a little embarrassed.

Tsunade-sama sort of hiccups a laugh and Aniki’s Chakra shudders, twisting in anxiety.

“That’s a strange name to call me, little Uchiha,” he says, with an unreadable tone. His Chakra is just as difficult to understand—Sasuke has learned to interpret the kinetic method of emoting but auditory is beyond him.

“Umm. Sorry. It’s just—Aniki calls Tsunade-sama Senju-hime, and I thought—because you’re from the Orochi Clan and—”

“I am not offended,” he says. “But it is not warranted. Orochi were never a Noble Clan. Orochimaru-sama is enough.”

“As you say, Orochimaru-sama,” he says obediently and shuts up. What was he thinking?

“Well, Hime, I daresay we can come to an arrangement. You have my word I will not harm your Uchiha. Or yourself and your apprentice. In return, you will heal—oh, let’s say, ten of my subjects. We will negotiate the rest as we go along.”

“Oh thank fuck, let’s get out of this blasted rain—”

* * *

Life in Otogakure has the potential to be endlessly fascinating, Sasuke freely admits. For one, there are four people around who like Sasuke—really like him, as in they think he is useful, or could become so. (And not just for making better Uchiha later on). That’s really the biggest difference. He can’t really judge the village itself yet, because he’s been stuck in the healing-room since they arrived. Both of them have, actually.

Aniki loves it here, no matter how deeply anxious he is all the time. Being anxious is pretty much Itachi’s base state. Anxious and morbidly depressed, yeah, that’s about covers it. But it’s less soul-crushingly awful here, Sasuke is pretty sure.

They share a room, and Tsunade-sama and Shizune-san are in the room right next to theirs. Orochimaru-sama is here pretty much at all times, too, sometimes alone, sometimes followed by a kid-Jōnin called Kimimaro-san.

There are many interesting things about Kimimaro-san. He is slavishly devoted to Orochimaru-sama, which would be more disturbing if Aniki wasn’t just as devoted to Sasuke. He has Orochimaru-sama’s pocket of Chakra on top of his natural Chakra which is fascinating on its own. Whatever bloodline-limit he has, it has to do with how thick and concentrated his Chakra is, and how incredibly quickly he can channel it. It’s like—when Aniki uses a Ninjutsu, Sasuke can see the energy flow like a stream of liquid. When Kimimaro channels Chakra, a glob of it just—disappears. Like if someone invisible was eating something, and the observer would just see chunks of it disappear. Creepy. 

Kimimaro-san is part of the deal that Orochimaru-sama made. In return for helping Sasuke and Aniki, Tsunade-sama will heal Kimimaro-san and some other Otogakure Shinobi.

Aniki is in negotiations with Orochimaru-sama too, but they stay well away from Sasuke when that topic comes about—he doesn’t really know why. It's not like he’s particularly interested. But spending time with Orochimaru-sama and Tsunade-sama seems to be good for Itachi, so Sasuke is content to sit in bed, and spend time with Katsuyu-sama.

(Orochimaru-sama has a summoning contract. It’s with the Serpents which are Noble Spirits too. One would think that would earn the ‘hiko’ honorific, but apparently not. The Snake-summons are every bit as beautiful as Katsuyu-sama, but they are less soothing and more dangerous. Sasuke is happy to observe them from a distance. Beautiful Chakra or no, predators are not to be messed with.)

Katsuyu-sama is very patient with Sasuke and very, very free with her healing-slime. Ever since Orochimaru-sama built him and Aniki their healing-stations, she had insisted on replacing Sasuke’s blindfold with two of herself whenever possible. Now, whenever Sasuke is in bed, two warm Noble Spirits sit on top of his eyes, gentle Chakra endlessly repairing whatever damage he has accumulated over the years. It’s not even intrusive—how could it be? It’s nature-Chakra basically, for all that it’s Katsuyu-sama’s.

What exactly they’re trying to do with Aniki’s lungs he doesn’t know—but it sure looks to be complicated. Whatever broke in Aniki, whatever whittled down his spirit to this obedient, anxious horror-show, it can’t be the sickness. Itachi doesn’t care about it at all. He submits himself to tests, exams and whatever arcane measurements the two Sanin think to take with the million beeping, squeaking machines working away at all times. But if he has the inklings of a will to live—other than in the sense of his duty or whatever—Sasuke certainly hasn’t noticed them.

Not that Sasuke has room to throw stones—he is only vaguely interested in life. If he could choose which animal describes him the best it would be those tiny animals that live in the water and just—let themselves be carried by the current, no hope—or wish—to influence or direct their journey in any way.

* * *

The more used he gets to Orochimaru-sama the easier it is to calibrate his Chakra-sense to the man. And boy, is it worth it.

It’s not that the man is any more deceptive than the rest of the Adults. He is, if anything, the most honest out of the lot. But he does lie, and for inexplicable reasons.

Like the Sharingan thing. Itachi—and Tsunade-sama—are dead-certain that Orochimaru-sama is somehow obsessed with getting his hands on a set of Sharingan eyes for himself. But honestly—whenever the topic comes about, his Chakra is if at most distantly curious about their Dōjutsu. He is more interested in Sasuke’s hallucinations than he is in the Sharingan, for all that he plays the part of a man obsessed.

Now, when he talks to Sasuke about his Chakra-sense, that is real focus. He talks about it for hours, coaxing out every shred of information Sasuke can hope to communicate. He is patient too—he has to be. Sasuke tries to stay present, but if he is overwhelmed or anxious, he shuts down automatically and can’t re-surface for hours at a time. When that happens, nothing can bring him out—not pain, shock, electricity, water, nothing. Best believe they tried it all—and with Itachi’s approval too. It’s very dangerous for any human alive in these strange times to shut down into catatonia when stressed—doubly so for someone who has body parts other, stronger people find valuable.

Since knowledge is what Orochimaru-sama is really after, he is on his best behaviour around Sasuke during these questioning sessions. Chakra kept in check, with a patient smile, and a perfectly brewed pot of jasmine Sencha, he talks to him for hours, always wanting more, more specificity, more descriptions, more theories, more concepts, just—more.

A plan hatches—or at least a hopeful exit from the endless thirst for knowledge. He waits until Tsunade and Shizune are out of the rooms, doing some tests on Itachi that should take at least a few hours. Even Katsuyu-sama is absent for once. (In her place is a strange sort of blindfold made out of jelly that covers the top part of his head entirely. Like a slimy helmet. It’s very gross.)

“You don’t really care about the Sharingan at all, do you Orochimaru-sama?”

A sip of tea, a placid hum. A high note echoes through his Chakra. Amusement. “Oh? What makes you say that Uchiha-san?”

Not for the first time the respectful—impersonal—name itches. “Please, Sasuke is fine. I can tell, I suppose. If you wanted a Sharingan, you’d have gotten one by now. You can’t tell me you could not have caught an Uchiha Chūnin all these years.”

“Maybe I wanted the best set of eyes for myself.”

“Right,” he says, as sceptically as he can. “Because you believe that eyeballs can be good or bad. Please. You’d have made yourself a set by now. You’d have snuck into Konoha on the day of the Massacre and stolen Mikoto’s eyes. Or Fugaku’s. No, if you wanted the Sharingan, you’d have had a set by now. So why do you make people think you do?”

Orochimaru-sama’s Chakra tinkles like plucked notes on a shamisen, a sequence Sasuke’s come to associate with fond indulgence. “I am in no way confirming your charming little theory, Uchiha-san—and nobody else would too. Everybody knows I am obsessed with learning every Jutsu in the Elemental Nations.”

“What—really? People, what—believe that?” Wow, that’s really damn stupid. “You’re a scientist—why on earth would you need to learn all the techniques? They’re all the same, more or less, right? I don’t know a single Ninjutsu, and I already know that.”

A soft laugh—staged, deliberate, but not dishonest. “People do indeed believe that. I am a scientist, and so it is not unbelievable I want to have all knowledge.”

“That’s not—knowledge.” He says, a little offended. “That’s just shortcuts. Learning without understanding. I know that you know better—I’ve seen what you can do with your Chakra. That Chakra-Package thing you leave inside your Shinobi—you can’t possibly tell me that’s not miles ahead of any Nin- or Genjutsu out there.”

“As charming as this line of questioning is, I can't really see where it’s going.”

Sasuke settles down, mouth curving into a sheepish smile. “Right, sorry. I got carried away. Yes—the point. The point is—I have an idea. A proposal if you will. We stop this questioning because I’ve explained everything I know about the in-between state. Instead, when you figure out what is wrong with my eyes, I will put you in a Genjutsu and show you what it’s like, how it feels. It’s the best way, I think. I can’t really explain it—it’s too sensory, and I’m too non-verbal.”

A low, bass note echoes through the Chakra which—darkens a little bit. “Genjutsu—what brought you to this idea?”

“Oh—is that not done outside of the Uchiha?” Damn, he didn’t know that.

“Indeed not. It’s an interesting proposal, though. How does it work?”

“Umm—well, growing up Genjutsu was used for, well, everything. Telling stories, teaching lessons. Demonstrating techniques. Umm, showing memories.” Speaking of, a tattered scrap of a memory swims forward from the wastelands of his mind. “Oh—oh damn. Um—I think I remembered why you wouldn’t know about it—it was all Clan secrets.” He considers that for half a heartbeat. “Ah well. They’re all dead now, so. Too bad for them.”

Orochimaru-sama’s Chakra laughs in tandem with the rasp of his physical voice. The duality of the deep bass note and the rather dry laugh is mesmerizing. “You know—I always had a fondness for your brother. He was a formidable child, in intellect and body alike. But I think you may be supplanting him simply by how earnestly disturbing you are.”

“Aniki is very strong.” He agrees. “And I am very crazy. So you agree—about the Genjutsu? It doesn’t have to be me—I can give the memory to Itachi and he can give it to you if you want.”

“Oh, sweet child, in no way do I trust Uchiha Itachi to do anything with or to my mind. Look at what he did to you—and he loves you like the Sun loves the Moon.”

“Wow, harsh.” He says, a little amused. “It’s not Aniki’s fault I’m a defective Uchiha.”

Another gong of amusement. “Be the as it may, I might allow _you_ to try—keyword being might. I do so love my mind. I would hate to have it damaged, intentional or not.”

Hmm. “Good point,” he admits. “I’ll speak to Katsuyu-sama about it. She has been teaching me about Chakra-sense—she calls it spirit-sense. Do your Spirits specialize in Genjutsu?”

“My snakes?” Asks Orochimaru-sama, switching from amused to focused. “Why do you call them Spirits? And what is spirit-sense?”

“Oh, um. Well—they’re not animals, are they? They’re spirits, who take the shape of animals, and even then very loosely so. Katsuyu-sama doesn’t look at all like a slug, right? They are pure Chakra—no blood or bones or anything. I—to me they couldn’t be more different.” He pauses, struggling for words. “As for Spirit-sense, Katsuyu-sama thinks that, um, because I’ve focused so much on the Nature-Chakra around me—on the plants and animals and such—that I’ve learned sensing in a different way? Like the Spirits do? Maybe?”

Orochimaru-sama is quiet for a long minute, but the silence is fairly relaxed if anything. “Konoha might never know what they lost, with the two of you. A deal, Uchiha Sasuke. Read my Chakra—read my spirit—know I speak the truth. An alliance between the Uchiha and Orochi. You deal with me fairly and I will reciprocate. Both of you will have a safe haven here, healing and protection. In return, you will teach me Chakra-sensing as you know it.”

“What—really?” He asks, surprised. “I mean—sure. I don’t know how well I will teach though—I’m pretty slow for an Uchiha, and pretty mad too. Umm. Is there a time limit?”

“No limit, within reason. You may not stay away for a decade, for example.”

“I—agree? Oh, wait—no, before I agree. I do not want to be—reproduced. So. I don’t mind my body being locked away. No walls can hold me, not really. Plus a lot of people want to kill me, and I don’t think I could defend myself properly. So, um, I don’t mind reasonable precautions in that regard. But no sex. Same for Aniki. Only the sex he wants.”

“Of course,” saysOrochimaru, switching easily back into languid amusement. “But—in the spirit of goodwill, I would recommend you to wait before agreeing, so you know what exactly you’re agreeing to. I am willing to wait for your brother to return—he is more versed in what Clan alliances entail.”

“Sure.” He agrees, damn confused. “Seems pretty simple to me, though. More of what we’ve been doing already? You keep us safe, and we give you knowledge you don’t have until you have it all. And then I suppose you kill us or we leave. That’s the current set-up, right? You don’t need us to fight for you—well, maybe Aniki, but even that’s a stretch. You don’t need money. We don’t have any political or social power, not really. And you don’t care about the Sharingan, outside of whatever psych-game you’re playing with the world. The only other thing you could want is sex, but you don’t seem to be into sex with kids, so.”

“Who knows—your brother is a very lovely creature.”

Even without Chakra-sense, Sasuke would’ve called this one. “Sure. Your end goal is to coerce an S-ranked Shinobi into sex. That’s an excellent idea. Ten out of ten would recommend.”

Orochimaru-sama’s laughter bounces off the stone walls. “My but you’re an amusing child. Still—I take my Clan seriously, even if you don’t. I offered an alliance in good faith.”

“Best to wait for Aniki, then. He’d know that stuff. In the meantime—I have an idea—”

* * *


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family

Orochimaru brings the alliance thing to Aniki’s attention himself, which is all sorts of hilarious to witness. Itachi, bless, jumps straight into a very precarious balance of hysterical amusement and bone-bending anxiety. Alright, so maybe Sasuke is confused, as well as amused. ‘Cause, maybe he’s missing something here, but—

“I don’t get it, Aniki. What’s the holdup? We already depend on Orochimaru-sama for our lives and like, reproductive freedoms. What’s the issue with making it official.”

“I—I—” Aniki is actually going to get a permanent stutter with how things are going. Tsunade-sama takes pity on him. On all of them, really.

“He’s afraid you won’t be able to fulfil your end of the deal, brat. We don’t know what you’re doing, how you’re doing it or if it has anything to do with your Dōjutsu. If it's a freak mutation, some odd expression of your bloodline-limit, then Oro will not be able to learn it, no matter what he tries.”

He huffs a little, miffed. “Okay, first of all. I doubt it’s genetic, or we’d have had records of similar things happening to Uchiha over the past hundreds of years. We don’t keep meticulous records about a lot of things, but best believe the Sharingan variations? Written up to the dot. If it’s a freak accident, well then Orochimaru-sama can make sure to mutate the set of Sharingan eyes he manufactures for himself, if he is reckless enough to actually try merging a foreign bloodline-limit with his own. Which I still claim he is not going to do.”

“Why would he make a set of Sharingan eyes, if he can take yours?” She says with a fair bit of impatience. “Or your—everything.”

“He can do that now! I’d let him, even!” He says, getting more and more worked up about all this circular reasoning. “Listen to yourselves—he could kill us all—especially me. You came here yourselves, you placed our lives into his hands, and now you’re what—cautious? Please. You just don’t want to commit.”

Itachi makes himself even smaller, and the lost grey-green of his Chakra just makes Sasuke even more confused. “Last time I committed to a leader, they had me kill my family, for the price of your life. Then they had me join the most gruesome mercenary organization in the known world, for the price of your health and happiness. How did that work out?”

Sasuke opens and closes his mouth a few times. He turns to where Orochimaru-sama is quietly watching the drama unfold. “Do you understand this—because I don’t understand this.” He spins back to Itachi, with the last shred of patience he has before it’s off to spirit-land to decompress. “He’s not your God, Aniki. He’s not going to make you his slave. If he orders you to, I don’t know, kill me and eat my roasted skin, you can just say no. As for blackmailing you with my health and well-being—that’s just something you will have to get used to. Everyone will do that to you—I am functionally a disabled civilian. If you don’t want that weakness, then just—leave me. I told you already I’m good anywhere.”

Aniki curls into himself, Chakra tinting dark-red, dripping like blood.

“Okay, I tried. You do you, Aniki. I will continue teaching Orochimaru-sama whatever he wants to know. If it’s an official alliance or not, it’s all the same to me. Sage wept, you people.”

He closes his eyes, and exhales, sinking through as he goes. Up and up and up, he spreads his soul through the atmosphere, until he is so big, his awareness so large that he can only really notice the very large, very slow shifts. Such as the wind-current, or the Sun’s rays warming him and soothing him. Birds fly, wind whistles. Life thrives everywhere around him. It’s a good day to be the air.

* * *

“You know,” says Orochimaru-sama, once Sasuke wakes up and finds himself conveniently alone with the man. “That little rant—as amusing as it was—was deeply flawed. You might be completely dismissive of your autonomy and divorced from any concept of self-worth—but your brother might not be. On top of that, he is also responsible for you. It’s on account of your well-being, that he hesitates to enter into an alliance with me. If he were alone—” he pauses for a moment, eyes unseeing. “Well, if he were alone, he’d have burned down Konoha to the ground with every last person trapped inside and then fallen on his blade. But, other than that, he’d have gladly accepted to be under my command. More than anything, your brother craves direction.”

“It was their idea to come here—why the half measures?” He asks, not even trying to filter out the whine from his tone. 

“Because he’s afraid. Because he’s traumatized. Because he made terrible mistakes before as a result of trusting the wrong person, and you paid the price for it. Plenty of reasons to be skittish around powerful, older men who act in strange ways and have indecipherable motives.”

“But we know your motives—you just want to know everything.”

Orochimaru hums, voice falling in the cadence Sasuke is starting to recognize as his ‘teaching voice’. “First of all,” he says, with three fingers raised in the air. Slowly, he ticks off one. “ _You_ know my motives—or at least you’re confident enough to be comfortable. You have a way of reading Chakra that is entirely unique. He does not. He knows me by reputation and by my actions. I make sure both of those things are unknowable and unpredictable.” He ticks of the second finger. “Second—just because a thing isn’t in someone’s best interest, doesn’t mean they will not do it. People often act against their best interests—usually for inexplicable reasons.” He ticks off the third finger. “Third—he is trying his best to account for your mental damage. Why aren’t you doing the same?”

Well, okay then.

“Why did you even mention an alliance, if you knew what would happen?”

“Because, little snake, I wanted him to know I am serious about courting you both to my side. I wanted to use the opportunity to prove my honesty through your Chakra-sense. And I wanted you to start interacting with people and understanding how they work. You’re not half as insane as you think you are. As you pretend to be. You’re just stubborn and resentful and frightened.”

He mulls that over for good ten minutes. In the meantime, Orochimaru-sama has made a fresh pot of tea—another Sencha blend—and is sipping it with languid sips. “Your teaching methods are awful and they make my heart ache, Orochimaru-sama.” He says when he can’t think of an objection. “But thank you.”

He hums, calm as the ocean, and just as unknowable. “You’re a rewarding student to teach, I admit. I cannot lie to you directly, so I need not bother. On the other hand, I don’t need to go through the tedious procedure of gaining your trust over time. You trust me because you can measure my truthfulness. No room for doubt, suspicion or jealousy there. There is still space left for manipulation, of course, and a world of psychological tricks, but the base suspicion is impossible. It’s a novel concept.”

“Right.”

* * *

Sasuke wastes no time after that conversation and tracks Itachi down to one of many libraries in Orochimaru-sama’s (creepy underground) home. Admittedly, it’s a bit hard to move in all this inorganic space, but he is used to bumping into things by now. If he slows down enough, he can avoid most of it. It’s great fun—he hasn’t walked mindfully for a while now.

Itachi sits, slumped over some text or another, and looks for all the world like he is calmly perusing it. Inside, though, he’s either coming down from, or working up to, a nasty panic attack.

“I’m sorry,” Sasuke says into the quiet. “I—I shouldn’t treat you this way. Orochimaru-sama is right—I use my disability and mental damage as a weapon against you because I know it hurts you. I keep throwing in your face that you’re free to leave while knowing you will never leave me to save yourself. I—I will try to stop. Sorry.”

That’s apparently, more than his brother can take. He crumbles, exterior finally matching the interior, and curls into himself, sobbing desperately.

He knows a bit more about what he should do. He climbs up and into his lap, angling his body so he can hook his chin around Itachi’s shoulder. Both of them can feel the other’s heartbeat through the material of their clothing.

“It will be okay, Aniki.” He says softly, He’s not even lying. “What happened, happened, and we can’t change it. But we’re here, and we’re together. We will be okay, you’ll see.”

* * *

Itachi’s lung surgery happens on a day just like any other. Sasuke—in the spirit of being less of a terrible little shit—tries to be supportive and unobtrusive at the same time. He still needs to float for at least a part of the day. Bad things will happen if he doesn’t offload his anxieties and whatever toxic nightmare his faulty brain tries to foist onto him. Six hours in two three-hour stretches is enough, though, if barely. Right before and after sleep works best, and for the rest of the day, he tries to be more involved in the living part of life.

With some more presence and motivation, he starts to slowly accept his brother is—far from functional. He was beaten into shape with more force and intent than Sasuke has. Sasuke was straight up mistreated because of—who knows, personal dislike, whatever. But Itachi was formed carefully, over a long period of time, by people invested in doing so.

Now that’s broken—and his genius plan of conveniently dying at the right time is going down the drain—Itachi is at loose ends.

“Do you think Aniki would make a good medic?” He asks Orochimaru-sama, as they’re waiting outside of the surgery, drinking tea. Neither is worried—Tsunade-sama can bring a man back from the grave as long as there is a spark of life to be found in his pinky. What’s one lung transplant next to that?

“You want the Senju Clan Head to claim the Uchiha Clan Head as her apprentice?” It shows, in times like this that Orochimaru-sama is a Clan-brat to the core, missing-nin or not. The incredulity sprinkled with a little bit of malicious glee is genuine.

“I mean—Aniki needs some guidance, and his options are—limited. There is me, which, yeah. There is you, which no offence, is a terrible idea. You’d chew him up and spit out a perfect little toy solider to crank and direct. Tsunade-sama, on the other hand, is hands-down the kindest person I’ve ever come across.” He pauses for a moment, judging how much personal information is too much, before deciding the man who procured Itachi a set of perfectly matched lungs can surely be counted as family. “Between you and me, Aniki could use a mum.” 

“And what about you, little serpent? What do you need? I thought you would claim Hime for yourself, with how much you’ve been fawning over Katsuyu.”

Sasuke tilts his head a bit—was he more subtle than he thought? Huh.

“I thought I’d stay with you? If that’s okay?”

There is a real pause in Orochimaru-sama’s Chakra. “What would you gain from my tutelage, little Uchiha? I am an assassin, first and foremost. You have no aptitude, or indeed ambitions, for combat.”

What even is this? “You’re a scholar, first and foremost, all due respect. Scholar first, scientist second, politician a distant third. I have insight into spiritual energy flow, which would be useful for you. You have a very settled, self-contained Chakra that doesn’t make me want to cry. That’s more than—practically anyone. Even Aniki makes my head hurt after a while. You also don’t talk down to me, which is nice.”

“I _also_ have a compound full of human experiments and sociopathic tendencies that make me irrationally possessive of what I consider mine. I would rather not have the drama of your inevitable attempts to escape.”

“Wait—” he says, incredulity tilting the words upwards. “Are you kicking me out? Is that what this is?”

“Sage, but you can be an exhausting child. I am trying to explain why you being my apprentice is a serious commitment.”

“Oh-kay. How about your assistant then? Guest? Mascot? House-pet? I am not picky.”

“And your brother—the S-ranked Clan Head? Who will soon be healthy and perfectly capable of burning my home to the ground if he hears mention of me keeping you as a house-pet? Where does he fit into this?”

Amaterasu grant him patience. “And that’s why I brought up Tsunade-sama. Aniki needs to heal, and grow a personality. If possible away from me, a living, breathing guilt-trip. He needs to leave me somewhere safe. Where is safer than with you—another S-ranked Clan Head who only wants me for my sensing ability?”

Orochimaru stews in incredulous outrage for a sequence of heartbeats and Sasuke makes a valiant stab at locating the tea-pot. Usually, Orochimaru-sama is polite enough to pour for them, but Sasuke’s very reasonable plan has apparently thrown him.

“I’m vetoing this discussion until you work it out with your brother.” He says finally. “Your—everything—is exhausting, and I do not appreciate being cornered into the role of the reasonable adult.”

Sasuke huffs a laugh—a real, honest laugh, how lovely—and nods. “As you wish.”

* * *

Aniki’s recovery—aided by the greatest medic in the Elemental Nations—goes predictably smoothly. Within a week, he’s on his feet, and Sasuke can see how looser his Chakra is. It’s visibly unencumbered. Chakra is a mix of physical and spiritual energy—it makes sense a terminal disease would mess with it.

It takes more than one long, exhausting conversation to build something like a real relationship with Itachi. Sasuke tries his best, but he has to stop several times when it all becomes too much for him. It’s either stop and drink some tea and cuddle with Katsuyu-sama or cast his mind out of his body to decompress. Aniki is very kind about it, but he knows it’s making him sad—that his best attempts still overwhelm Sasuke so reliably.

“It’s not you—” he tries to explain for the umpteenth time. “I can’t help it—your Chakra is very active—lovely, without a doubt, but it’s very expressive and vibrant. You feel so strongly Aniki, and my mind is fragile.”

“I do not blame you,” Itachi says softly. “I would never. Your defensive mechanisms are what kept you alive, and I adore them for it. I am simply—”

“Yeah.”

They sit in silence for a while, a clone of Lady Katsuyu the size of a medium-dog sitting in Sasuke’s lap. By unspoken agreement, Itachi continues the medical text he has been reading, and Sasuke plays a game with Lady Katsuyu where they match the shapes the other makes with their Chakra.

“So—Tsunade-sama is pretty awesome.” He says when he’s as calm as he’s going to get for now.

Itachi’s Chakra ripples with love. Pure-yellow, like sun-rays.

“Yes, Otōto, Tsunade-sama is a remarkable woman. We are beyond fortunate she took pity on us.”

‘Aint that the truth.

“And your Chakra-control—it has always been really good, hasn’t it?”

Itachi puts down his book. “Where are you going with this?”

“I mean—I was just thinking. You have this pacifism thing going on. And Tsunade-sama loves you. Like, really loves you.” He hesitates for a moment. “Don’t tell anyone, but she loves you more than she loves Shizune-san. Or at least in a different way.”

Itachi stills, something a lot like denial, but much more guilty hope twisting through his Chakra.

“Trust me—you know I can see these things. She loves you like mothers love their children. I don’t know how you managed that so quickly, I really don’t. She fixed her haemophilia for you, that’s how much she loves you.”

“Sasuke—”

“Oh, don’t bother Aniki—I can feel you too. Don’t bother with the self-sacrificing shtick. I can see how much you care for her. And you should—she is the mother you should have had.”

“Our parents—”

This time Sasuke doesn’t even bother interrupting—he knows Itachi won’t be able to finish that sentence to his benefit.

“They—”

Sasuke gentles his voice as much as he can. “They were horrible parents, Aniki. How they treated me was bad—but you? Who sends their child into ANBU at, what, ten? Don’t tell me it’s—forget healthy—it’s _sane_ for parents to send their ten-year-old pacifist son to murder and seduce on behest of an uncaring village.”

“That’s unfair, Sasuke.” There’s so much pain in Itachi’s voice, so much blind, betrayed love, it takes real effort to keep his mind in his body.

“It’s not. Look at it this way—would Tsunade-sama send a ten-year-old into ANBU? Any ten-year-old, much less her son?”

“They can’t be compared. They had the Clan to worry about. They had responsibilities to all Uchiha—and our Clan was in a bad place, politically. They needed to show strength.”

He shrugs. “I’m not saying they were evil. I don’t know or care what was in their hearts. I’m sure there were plenty of reasons, plenty of pressure. They were likely traumatized beyond the point of being functional—especially after the Kyūbi. I am saying they were horrible parents. Abusive, terrible parents whose children should have been taken away from them. Can you deny it?”

“What’s the point of this, Otōto? They did their best.”

“Point is—since our parents were what they were, I am very happy you found a mother worthy of you. And I am trying to encourage you to stay with her and let her help you. Just being near her makes you happy.”

“Sasuke-kun is correct.” Chimes in Katsuyu-sama. “Tsunade-chan would move mountains for you, Uchiha-sama. She talks about nothing but your treatment, and getting justice in your name.”

“I—Let’s change the topic.”

“Sure. As long as you know I support you.”

* * *

“So—Tsunade-sama. My brother—he’s awesome, isn’t he?”

“Shut-it, brat. Katsuyu told me everything. I am still working on not slapping you into next month.”

“As long as you know I support you.”

* * *


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyyy guys. so--I thought it was high time to give you all a bit of a heads-up. if you are here for some like, epic political struggle, or an adventure fantasy story or some angsty throwdown with epic battles and all that, I'm sad to tell you there's not gonna be any of that. 
> 
> This is the closest to pure crack I've ever written. It's prob gonna remain the closest to pure crack I'll ever write. I'm having a blast, cause it's super fun to write and I feel like a teenager again which is a trip. But the last two chapters, since they reached Oto, that's the tone. I'm gonna stay in that tone, okay? So--yeah. Just so you know. It's only gonna get worse from here. 
> 
> Okay, onto the story specific A/N
> 
> Chiharu (千春) Springs and clear skies
> 
> TAKEDA 武田 Japanese From Japanese 武 (take) meaning "military, martial" and 田 (ta) meaning "field, rice paddy".
> 
> Otake This is a surname in Japan borne by the families living in Southeast Japan. The name literally means ‘large bamboo’.

Now that Aniki is out of the woods, lung-wise, it’s time to address the Bijū in the room. He can feel Orochimaru-sama’s impatience grow by the day, as both Tsunade-sama and Aniki continue to tiptoe around the topic.

Alright then—it’s time to step in. That seems to be, like, his entire role in this family.

“Our eyes.” He says bluntly when they’re all conveniently all together. The adults are sorting through the impressively large pile of evidence Itachi had collected over the years for leverage. “More specifically—my eyes. What’s the plan.”

“Sasuke—”

“I just want to know, Aniki. Do we have a plan? I’m fine as I am, but I think we should at least be all on the same page.”

“Uchiha-san is correct,” says Orochimaru-sama. “There is nothing to be gained by avoiding the topic endlessly.” The room was already tense, but now that Orochimaru-the-infamous-Sharingan-thief has expressed his interest, Aniki’s heart threatens to rabbit straight out of his chest. Oh no, Orochimaru used the word ‘gain’ and ‘Sharingan’ in the same sentence, death approaches.

“Nobody here wants my eyes, Aniki,” says Sasuke, keeping the exasperation from his voice as best he can. “Don’t buy whatever Orochimaru-sama is selling. He’s playing all of you.”

“Is that true?” Says Tsunade-sama, and the hope in her Chakra is in sharp contrast with the flat tone. “Are you fucking with us, Oro?”

Orochimaru-sama hums and doesn’t hide the note of humour. “I can neither confirm nor deny. I am certainly satisfied with the terms of our agreement so far. You’ve healed all my subjects perfectly—and I have done the same.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” says Tsunade-sama. Incredulous joy spills from her Chakra into her voice and radiates through the room. “All these years—you horrible old _reptile_ —you let us all think—”

“Now, now. I never so much as implied I wanted the Sharingan. You all made your assumptions. I didn’t deny them then and I don’t deny them now. I am not responsible for your conclusions.”

“Going back to my previous topic,” Sasuke says before the two old people start emoting over one another. “Our eyes. Aniki—you said something to me, way back when. Something about wanting my eyes? About me wanting yours?”

Itachi shrivels into himself, Chakra wrapping around his body protectively.

“I hoped you wouldn’t remember that.” He says quietly. “I’m so sorry Sasuke—”

“Pish-posh. Point is—there is something there, right? People keep swapping Sharingan eyes like candy—there must be a reason why. The Hyūga certainly aren’t doing the same.” As far as anyone knows. Maybe they’re just being clever about it and keep eye-trafficking on the down-low to avoid undue attention. Would be clever of them, if so.

“I—there’s a legend. About Madara-sama and his brother, Izuna-sama. That—that he took his brother’s eyes and was made exponentially more powerful by them.” Itachi admits after a long struggle with himself.

Wait. “You _knew_ about this? All these years?” He says incredulously. “And you haven’t taken my eyes already—why? You may note they’re not exactly being used.”

“I would never.” Says Itachi, tipping head-first into fanaticism. “Sasuke, surely by now you know I never wanted to hurt you—I made a mistake, so many horrible mistakes that I can never atone for but I only ever wanted you happy.”

Sasuke waits until the end of the little monologue, just in case any relevant information surfaces.

“I know all that.” He says slowly. “Itachi—I can _see_ your love. I don’t doubt it. I am not saying you should maim me. But—and correct me if I’m wrong here—as things stand, I am functionally blind, carrying two Sharingan eyes that I cannot use. One way or another, Tsunade-sama will have to operate on me to try to fix that. Why don’t we simply—swap? Nobody needs to be blinded. Although, note how I am _already_ blind. No great loss there.”

“It’s like you’re from a different species,” says Orochimaru-sama in the dead silence that follows Sasuke’s rant. “Doesn’t the idea of having someone else’s eyes in your head—bother you in any way? Where is your obsession that all Dōjutsu users share? Instinctive panic and possessiveness about your bloodline-limit.”

“Remind me to tell you the story about the year where I was convinced I was a foundling that Itachi rescued and brought back to the Compound,” Sasuke says absently. “But seriously, Aniki, why not? What’s the worst that can happen?”

“I am too old for this.” Groans Tsunade-sama. “You are all mad. But not, in this instance, technically incorrect. I would have to operate on your eyes one way or another. How certain are you about this legend, brat?”

“I—pretty certain.” Says Itachi, with the dull tones of helplessly overwhelmed. “There is this shrine—and Tobi—”

“Tobi?” Asks Orochimaru-sama voice lowering into a sharp rasp, all previous amusement forgotten. “The Akatsuki member? The one that teleports?”

“He was there—on the night of the Massacre. He has the Sharingan. He—he called himself Madara, and I—”

“You _believed_ him.” Says Sasuke. “You believed a random rogue Uchiha that he is our long-departed ancestor back from the dead.”

Itachi’s silence is damning.

“Alright. Note how I’m not even touching the topic of whatever Akatsuki is. Why don’t we just—” he turns to Tsunade. “You couldn’t maybe summon Katsuyu-sama for a little bit?”

She sighs, a wealth of tired humour in her voice. “I will have to wean you off Katsuyu at some point. But sure.”

As soon as the pristine Chakra of his favourite Noble Spirit materializes, Sasuke feels his blood-pressure smoothing into acceptable levels.

He shamelessly slides to the floor and flops onto Katsuyu-sama’s body, this time the size of a large dog. “Thank the Sage.” He says into the smooth, slippery Chakra-construct. “They’re all mad, Katsuyu-sama. Save me.”

“Always, Sasuke-kun,” she says and hugs him with her Chakra.

“You’re an angel.”

* * *

The Plan is, as Sasuke understands, a writhing mass of ifs and buts and whyfores. Having cut his reading teeth on texts he had no hope of understanding, he is well-prepared for it.

“We switch our eyes, recover, go to the Fire Country Daimyo, hand over our evidence, spread the news of Konoha’s shame enough that it can’t be buried, and then run like hell back to Oto until Konoha solves her own problems. Without Aniki’s mercenaries slaughtering us for his betrayal.”

Shizune-san chokes on a laugh, but the adults are not as amused as all that. Well—Orochimaru-sama is amused, but hiding it. He’s pretending to be something other than an agent of pure chaos. It’s a fair attempt, if doomed at the start. There is only so much Orochimaru-sama can do to mask the glint in his eyes that hints at orange stripes in an otherwise tiger-less jungle.

“You aren’t going anywhere, bratling.” Says Tsunade-sama. “The smarter half of the Uchiha Clan will come to the Daimyo. I am Senju—I have a standing invitation. He is Uchiha—he does too. Oro—do I remember correctly—?”

“Orochi are, as it happens, barred from entering the Fire Country Capital.” He says, wearing the ridiculous statement like a badge of honour.

“I thought so,” she says with an amused smirk. “Your Lady Mother, wasn’t it?”

“Mmm. She was simply the final straw, as I remember. Regardless—my relationship with Chiharu-sama is more than good enough to compensate.”

“That would be the Takeda heir?”

“Lord now, and Daimyo of what was once Ta no Kuni—now, of course, Oto no Kuni ”

“My, but we’re old, Oro.” Groans Tsunade-sama. “I remember little Chi-chan—we spent a month guarding the little brat. It feels it was a year or two ago.”

“I assure you, Chiharu-sama is all grown up and is busy deposing despots and establishing his authority by making alliances with unsavoury characters.”

The two adults share a smirk, and Sasuke realizes—that’s innuendo. Gross.

“In any case, the three of us will be more than enough to present our case to Otake-sama.”

“Pardon me,” says Itachi, with something of a steely twang. “Sasuke and I haven’t agreed to be separated. It’s only been two months since we found each other—”

Wait. “You want to bring me to the Daimyo?” He asks with all due incredulity that requires. “To the _Capital_? Aniki, please, be reasonable. The volume of Chakra in that place—I’d be catatonic before we pass the gates.”

“Either you go, or I stay, Sasuke.”

“You can’t _stay_.” He says, outraged. “You’re our main witness—you’re the entire case. Without you, we have some documents any Genin can forge and Tsunade-sama’s word—and she hasn’t been in Konoha for years.”

“Well tough, because I’m not leaving you—”

“Alright brats,” says Tsunade-sama, with a heavily exasperated tone. “Let’s first see how the surgery goes. We will worry about politics later.”

* * *

The surgery, Sasuke comes to understand, is not as simple as taking out Sasuke’s eyes and sticking them into Itachi’s. They’re too small, for one. And Itachi’s will be a hair too big.

While he nominally doesn’t mind eye-swapping, the details gross him out a little. Not that anyone really asks for his input. Aniki, perhaps in hopes of impressing his kind-of-mother, is involved in the planning, but when Orochimaru-sama starts talking about devices to artificially age the removed eyeballs, Sasuke bows out gratefully and without hesitation.

The itinerary is all he needs to know and the itinerary is simple. Sasuke’s surgery is first—what with it being less of a worry. In his case, no eyes are better than the eyes he already has. Not that anyone agrees. After removing his eyes, they will be—worked on, in whatever fashion is required, which should take about ten days. After that, it’s Itachi’s turn.

The day of the surgery is theoretically bright and lovely, for all that such things matter when living in a creepy underground compound. Tsunade-sama and Shizune-san knock him out and remove his eyeballs without issue. Orochimaru-sama promised to bat Aniki around for the duration of the surgery so he doesn’t work himself up into a frenzy. It’s good to have reasonable people around.

When he wakes up, he feels—drugged, but in a good way. A slime-gel like blindfold covers everything from the bridge of his nose to the end of his forehead. It’s chock-full of Chakra—it pulses with long, soothing throbs that are almost hypnotizing. 

Tsunade-sama is almost manic. “Whoever operated on you should be drawn and quartered, kid.” Sasuke has become used to her expressing her worry though aggression, but it seems whatever mess happened with Sasuke’s eyes, it was bad enough to drop her from aggression straight into anxiety. “I can’t even reverse-engineer their procedure, that’s how fucked it was. Your optical nerve is mangled, the muscles weren’t attached properly, your eye-sockets are scarred as shit. Nobody bothered to repair the lacerations to your skull—I don’t know—”

Ah, so that’s why Aniki isn’t here. This is pretty upsetting, probably.

“It wasn’t that bad.” The slur in his voice is entirely warranted. “After a while, my body learned to filter the pain out. ’S fine.”

“It is not fine, bratling. I examined you fuck knows how many times, and I hadn’t spotted the ridiculous level of trauma. Medics learn pretty quickly to never go near a Dõjutsu wielder’s eyes. I guess it stuck with me. It’s almost funny how often my generation’s holdups fuck you up, specifically.”

Without his Sharingan, his Chakra-sense is diminished exponentially. It’s a strange feeling. He had gotten used to the Chakra-projections serving as a second sight. It seems that a part of that was Sharingan’s ability to see Chakra flows.

“Okay.” He says, not exactly sure what to say here. “I—don’t mind? It’s okay?”

She sighs, a weary sound that communicates her state of mind very well. “You have some nasty surgeries in your future, so heads up. I will need to remove a lot of scar tissue, not to mention see what can be done about your eye-sockets.”

“After Aniki, though, right? Wouldn’t it be best to have at least one functional Uchiha around?”

“Your brother is plenty functional now, brat.” She pauses for a moment, before dissolving into a fountain of hissed profanity. “Unless he’s also carrying a mountain of trauma that I didn’t check him for.”

“Well,” he says in his best reasonable tone. “I doubt anyone took a kunai to his eyes, so he’s probably better off in that respect. But he _has_ been using the Sharingan for a long time. Screwy things happen to Uchiha who overuse the Sharingan.”

“Right. Well, let’s leave that can of worms to the side for now. I will have to operate on him soon enough. In the meantime, I need to figure out how to re-build your eyeballs enough that they can be transplanted at all. Sage help them when I get my hands on the so-called medics who butchered you like this.”

“Good luck,” he says. “Thanks, by the way. I know all this is a bit much to ask of you. Healing us was one thing, but this eye-swapping business must be pretty creepy.”

“Shinobi medicine is as a rule creepy brat. Bloodline-limits are bizarre, that’s just the truth.Oro’s got one kid that has four arms and four legs and spits spider-webs. The Kaguya child I healed can re-grow his skeleton at will. He almost died because of malnutrition of all asinine things. Your eyes are far from the worst thing I’ve ever seen.”

Sure. That’s why her Chakra is lashing about like the tail of a very large, very angry cat. “If you say so, Tsunade-sama.”

He clicks his mouth shut when he senses—

“Heads up, Aniki is coming and he is—upset.”

“Of course he is.”

* * *

Sasuke excuses himself from the upcoming discussion of his state of physical ruination. His senses might be dulled, but Aniki is not subtle.

Without his Sharingan-enhanced Chakra-sense, however, he is left with compensating with his learned sensing. It’s not impossible but he has to slow down his movement about 4.5 times to account for objects moving in and out of the Chakra bubble he keeps around his body.

It’s one of the most amusing things he has ever done, if a bit strenuous on his body. On the other hand, it seems that punch-drunk feelings are here to stay. He could have the time of his life just by sitting down and not doing anything. Is it the absence of pain?

“Alright, I’ll bite. What are you doing? As precisely as you can, Sasuke-san. Use small words, if possible.” Says Orochimaru-sama, once Sasuke has come close enough that he came looking for him. “And what have you done to your Chakra?”

He tilts his head in the approximate direction of the blob in his senses. He’s getting better, but living things are still difficult. Orochimaru-sama’s Chakra makes it hard to map out the physical lines of his body with Sasuke’s Chakra, which kind of makes the man appear as a pear-shaped cloud in his mind.

“Tsunade-sama successfully removed my eyes. That’s the good bit. Apparently, the medics in Konoha bungled up my surgery and now both my face and Aniki’s future eyes are ruined. I am re-training my Chakra-sense to account for being eye-less.”

Orochimaru-sama is quiet for a long sequence of moments, while Sasuke snails forward bit by bit, arms still thrust to the sides. “That would explain why I can feel Itachi-kun’s Chakra about to burn the very air we breathe.”

“Nah, it’s fine. Aniki adores Tsunade-sama. But—he’s pretty upset. Tsunade-sama is pretty upset too. That’s why I came to you. I figure you would be, at most, cynically amused at my misfortune.”

“You weren’t wrong,” he throws back, but his Chakra doesn’t quite match the flippant tone. “For all that you’ve upended my life irreparably, the endless stream of ways Konoha has found to damage you is morbidly fascinating.”

“I know, right,” he says, grinning a little. “You have to admire their style. Way to kick a person when they’re down.”

“And people call us the nice village,” wonders Orochimaru-sama. Sasuke politely doesn’t call him out on the very inappropriate possessive pronoun there. The man is, after all, very old.

“Eh,” he says, see-sawing his hand, which is very funny to do when you have to move at about five per cent of your normal speed. “Maybe we are. Who knows what depths of depravity Taki has sunken to?”

Orochimaru-sama huffs. “You’re more right than you know. Never mind. Come, if you are to stay here, then I must fatten you up. I can’t risk forgetting to feed you once and having you promptly keel over from starvation.”

“Oooh—will there be tea? Do you know—”

* * *

Sasuke is not surprised when it turns out that the news of his messed up brain circuitry shifts the plan a bit. Aniki throws his version of a hissy-fit, which is kind of adorable what with him being a kitten at heart.

Tsunade-sama folds like a wet tissue, ‘cause she adores Aniki and agrees to first fix Sasuke’s head as much as possible. Which includes having Aniki’s eyes in his head. This necessitates that Aniki’s surgery is done parallel to Sasuke’s.

“This is madness.” He tells Orochimaru-sama, over a game of chess, meant to help Sasuke with his Chakra-sense. “This can’t be how adults handle problems. We’d have surely died out as a species if this is how we dealt with life.”

“I chalk it up to excessive mental trauma and leave it at that.” Says Orochimaru-sama. “Tsunade-hime and I have many decades of war and death to get us where we are. You and your brother got the condensed version. You, especially, I have to say.”

Sasuke snorts a little. Orochimaru-sama is the worst person to whine to about this. The man lives and breathes chaos. If he feels for a _moment_ that somewhere in the world there exists a plan that is going well, he will go to great lengths to disrupt it just because.

“So, just for the sake of clarity. The plan now is to fix both myself and Aniki in parallel, and then go to the Daimyō.”

“Child, there is no fixing you. Or, for that matter, Itachi-kun. The plan, as you say, is to appease your brother, do what can be done about your excessive physical trauma, and re-group after that.” He pauses for a moment, trying to see if there is any move he could make that wouldn’t win him the game. Sasuke is shamelessly terrible at this game. “I also need to finish the soul-transferral ritual, which I had planned to do once I didn’t have two S-ranked Shinobi living under my roof.”

“What.”

* * *

So it turns out, Orochimaru-sama is somehow even more outrageous than Sasuke first thought. The Chakra-pocket-things were (among other things) anchors that the man could use to just—soul hop to a different body.

A body which he would then, through some arcane ritual or another, shift and tug and nudge until it was identical to his own, down to the genetic material. It had to do with Chakra, is as much Sasuke cares to know.

Aniki and Tsunade play the ‘ _you’re a villain and I can’t believe you’re doing this why or why must you be this way’_ game to the point where Sasuke is forced to point out that all of them here other than Sasuke have done much worse than accept a willing human sacrifice. Tsunade-sama’s kill-count was likely in the thousands by now, and Aniki’s, well. There are only so many infants you can murder before the issue of ethics becomes a thorny one.

Orochimaru-sama runs a few cycles of what Sasuke has come to think of as ‘crazy sequence’ after Sasuke defends him. Shock, pleasure, shame, anger, exasperation, all tied up in a little bow of disbelief. It’s an expected reaction by now—all three of them cycle through it whenever they feel they don’t deserve being defended.

The circular debates about the ethics of the whole thing distract the adults enough that Sasuke is completely and entirely suspicious.

“No way will you take over Kimimaro-san.” He says flatly, once Aniki and Tsunade-sama have exhausted themselves and gone off to continue living in their fantasy worlds. “Is this another one of those Sharingan things?”

“Oh?” Says Orochimaru-sama. “Why would I not choose the Kaguya bloodline? Kimimaro is the last of his kind, and is nigh-unbeatable in combat.”

Sasuke purses his lips. “Is it some sort of snake hypnosis? Do people just believe everything you say just because it’s you saying it? You, Orochimaru-sama, have somehow convinced your teammate and Aniki, who is not as stupid as he acts sometimes, that you would give up your Clan heritage? You, the person who is the ultimate Clan Brat?” You who re-named yourself after your fallen Clan, he thinks but doesn’t say. That seems like a low blow, and also something that Sasuke might have done if things were just a bit different.

Orochimaru-sama’s Chakra jingles in amusement, every bit as inhuman as his bloodline allowed.

“It’s like—you do something, and people just stop thinking. Is it pheromones? We already established you can change your host-body to become identical to your Orochi-body. Why would you use a Kaguya then?”

“Why, indeed. Kimimaro-san will, indeed, not be my host. I have plenty of willing and less willing volunteers. Kimimaro is filling a valuable role as the, well, Otokage. Even more valuable now that Kabuto is gone. Things would be much simpler if your kidnapping didn’t become as comically complicated as it was. Alas.”

Hold on. “The medic was one of yours? He didn’t have your Chakra-pocket” He asks, honestly curious.

“He was, yes.” A deep but quiet boom of regret shudders through Orochimaru’s Chakra-melody. “He was—a pleasure to teach.”

“Oh.” He pauses, thinking back. “He was pretty nice. The lightning guy got him mostly by accident, I think.”

“I doubt that.” Says Orochimaru, a lethal note snaking through the languid tone. “I very much doubt it was an accident. What it was, was us being outmanoeuvred. Shimura knew I had made my play, and he countered it beautifully. By leaking intel to Kumo.”

Wow. “That makes sense.” He says, but, no it doesn’t. Sasuke was out of it, but not that out of it. He’s pretty sure it was, in fact, straight-up bad luck. “So you sent your Kabuto, then Danzō sent a Kumo Jōnin, then you sent a team to kill the Kumo Jōnin, then Aniki killed your team.”

“And then you came to me by your own volition, yes, I am aware of the irony.” Says Orochimaru-sama irritably.

“You have to admit, it’s pretty funny. But I am sorry. About your student. He got caught up in a strange keep-away game played for a pair of eyes it’s possible nobody can use.”

“You know very well it’s not your eyes that are valuable, but your reproductive capacity. A fertile male Uchiha can re-populate a Clan within, what, a decade?”

“Gross.” Mutters Sasuke. “It’s not polite to bring that up. I’m not even past puberty yet.”

Orochimaru barks a short, harsh laugh, Chakra rustling with a cascade of strange, whispery sounds. “You’re so inhuman at most times, it’s hard to think of you as a child at all. You’re more like a summoning animal than anything else.”

A pleased blush tingles across his cheeks, as he smiles at the man. “Thank you. I mean, I dare not claim anything like that but. Yeah.”

“Think nothing of it.”

* * *


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First inklings of a personality

The slew of surgeries that follow is—complicated. Sasuke is a Shinobi child, blessed with a sturdy body bred to be receptive to Chakra-healing. Even with that in mind, the amount of work that needs to be done is—considerable.

Tsunade-sama spends a week fixing the damage done to Sasuke’s erstwhile eyes—aided by an ungodly amount of machinery. In the meantime, Shizune-san starts the prep-work on Sasuke’s immediate health. There is, reportedly, a bizarre amount of scarring littering his eye-sockets. The scars, then, caused additional mechanical damage to the eyes. Between Shizune-san and a very small version of Katsuyu-sama, they manage to heal some of it. The less said about the sensation of a slug crawling inside your skull the better.

Orochimaru-sama, in the meantime, has taken to batting Aniki around a training ground to keep him from causing trouble. Whatever little calm his brother managed to claw together has swiftly evaporated the moment he started to internalize just how damaged up Sasuke is. Orochimaru-sama thought to set him on his minions and get himself a free instructor. That plan got scrapped when he had to jump in to save Kimimaro-san from being beheaded a minute into the bout. He doesn’t _forbid_ his Shinobi from challenging Itachi, but he makes sure to spar with him for a few hours every day, just to make sure Itachi won’t start taking his wrath out on the walls.

Sasuke knows all this because, in a strange bout of circumstance, Aniki started spouting the first inklings of a personality. That personality being a vindictive little monster. It’s getting more and more obvious to Sasuke that Aniki, for all that he played such a major role in his life, is still a sixteen-year-old. A sixteen-year-old with a lot of power in his hands and a lot of anger in his heart.

Naturally—their relationship flourishes. Sasuke can’t quite connect with Itachi-the-tragic-model-of-perfection but Itachi-the-petty-asshole is right up his alley. He visits Sasuke at the end of each day to whine about this or that, or vindictively brag about a training-ground he demolished or Orochimaru-sama’s Jōnin he brought down a peg. That, too, he can understand. Aniki is, well, adorable. Small, lean, with Uchiha-pretty features and enormous liquid dark eyes. The type of Shinobi Orochimaru-sama collected were, by all accounts, brutish, macho-types who have one way of handling perceived vulnerability.

Orochimaru-sama is endlessly exasperated, which he makes sure Sasuke knows, by virtue of complaining about it at great length. He is also secretly pleased by all of it. Neither of them goes all out in their fights, obviously. Aniki is still more or less preparing for his own surgery and is under strict orders to not use his Sharingan. With that handicap in place, Itachi is forced to fall back to Taijutsu and Shurikenjutsu for the most part because Nin- and Genjutsu are so closely connected to the Sharingan it is almost impossible to untangle them.

Aniki’s illness and prodigious control over their bloodline-limit has made his Shurikenjutsu rusty and his Taijutsu almost terrible. Orochimaru-sama takes great joy in helping him re-learn the skills. At the end of the day, Aniki is sweaty, bloody, and even Sasuke can tell how floaty and pleased his Chakra is.

“Are you as confused by all this as I am?” He says to Shizune-san during one of their eye-socket-healing-sessions.

She snorts, hands steady at his face, emitting a steady stream of healing-Chakra. “My life has never been boring, but it has grown increasingly bizarre recently, yes. I can’t say I ever expected any of this.”

Sasuke hums, stretching a little Chakra over hers, trying to get a read on her. “Are you upset? We monopolized your time with your Master.”

“Not at all. I’m a Jōnin in my own right. I could leave any time I want. Returning to Konoha, though—it would not be my wish.”

“Wait—you’re Konoha?” He says, honestly surprised.

“Of course I am.” The reply is dispassionate enough to signal a wealth of bad blood, there. “My brother, Dan, was Tsunade-sama’s fiancé. When he died, she took me in.”

Oh wow, okay, that sounds even more thorny.

“Umm. So.” He says, suddenly conscious of the fact that this conversation is maybe not appropriate for when her fingers are literally inside of his skull. “I think I should—say sorry? Maybe?”

Amused fondness sparkles though her Chakra. “Oh?”

“Umm. I may have, err. Encouraged. Aniki to—gethimselfadopted. By Tsunade-sama. Who I am now realizing is your mother.”

“Yes, I am aware.”

Sasuke pokes carefully through her Chakra, looking for any trace of resentment or anger. “And you’re not—upset?” He says slowly. “I, umm. I didn’t know, in my defence? That you were. You know. Her kid.”

“I am not upset, no.” She says, and he can hear her smile in her easy tone. “Tsunade-sama and I are not—what she and Itachi-san are. We have a cordial, functional relationship but I don’t see her as my parent. She doesn’t see me as her child. I am in no way jealous of Itachi-san.”

“That’s very reasonable.” He says, a bit shocked at this outpouring of unyielding common sense. “Not what I expect from Shinobi, to be frank.”

“I am not much of a Shinobi,” she says easily. “I’m a competent enough medic, and am decent with poisons, but the lifestyle never held much appeal to me. When I was a kid, I dreamt of working in a library.”

“Wow,” he says, his shock slowly being overtaken by admiration. “Shizune-san, don’t get me wrong, but you might be the most grown-up grown-up I’ve ever met. That’s amazing.” He pauses for half a moment, thinking. “Although that sucks, that your ambitions have been messed with so much.”

“S’okay.” She says, mirth adding a lovely lilt to her voice. “I like travelling, and Tsunade-sama is a brilliant woman. I learned a lot from her.”

“I bet your book collection is spectacular,” he says with no little wonder.

“It’s pretty awesome, yes. Tsunade-sama is generous with our funds when she’s not gambling them away. I probably have the biggest private collection out of everyone you’ll meet. It’s all sealed up, though, and I never have the time to organize it all.”

“I’ll help.” He says, thrilled by the idea of doing something not Shinobi-related. “When this whole mess is sorted out and I can see and we all have a little time to breathe. I’d love to help if you’ll have me. We can rope in Orochimaru-sama. I bet he knows a lot of library-seals, he’s such a massive nerd. It’ll be fun.”

A bit of flustered delight shines through her steady Chakra. “I’ll never understand your easy relationship with Orochimaru-sama. He’s so—aren’t you intimidated?”

“Eh. When you’re as weak as I am, you’re more or less constantly at the mercy of everybody around you. I am as helpless against you as I am against him. Plus Orochimaru-sama is very reasonable when it comes down to it. He plays a lot of games, enjoys messing with people, but he’s also very kind to those that show him kindness. Look at everything he’s done for us. Look at how much fun he’s having trainingAniki.”

She sighs, a bit guilty. “I can see it, rationally. But then his reputation and this creepy underground compound, and the experiments—”

Sasuke shrugs a little, careful not to move too much. “Konoha has a giant T&I department. Konoha has the Yamanaka. You can’t tell me that’s not heaps worse. They push their Shinobi to madness and then feed them to the Yamanaka who happily cut and prune their minds into something the village can still use. At least Orochimaru-sama is open about it all. And, most importantly, he can be reasoned with.”

“I suppose you’re right. Still. I don’t begrudge you your friendship, but it’s not for me.”

“Fair enough.”

* * *

“Sooo—”

“Sage, but I am developing a physical reaction of dread to that tone.” Says Tsunade-sama warily. “What now, brat?”

Sasuke pouts a little for effect. It is most likely a grotesque grimace. It’s been a good few years since he pouted last, and he’s been blind for most of them. “Mean. I was just wondering what the plan is. It’s been, what, three weeks since it was decided my surgeries take precedent over everything else. Well, I’m getting there, yeah?”

Tsunade-sama softens unexpectedly, her usual offhand demeanour flowing into something much calmer. “A month here or there won’t change a thing. Oro is having a blast with your Aniki and the three of us have strengthened the Fūinjutsu on the Compound. Oro has a clone pop out and do the expected fear-me-the-slimy-villain routine, so I don’t think anyone suspects we’re hiding here.”

Oh. “I’m not worried about that.” He says and then pauses. Is he—lying? “Oh, wow, sorry, I am _very_ worried about that.”

“Yeah, you’re not a subtle kid.” She says, and Sasuke isn’t imagining her tone tinging with fondness. “Our biggest advantage is that no-one would suspect we’re hiding here. Oro has been gaslighting the world for so long about his Uchiha obsession, that even I believed it.”

Sasuke huffs, still disbelieving. “That just blows my mind. I get that I have the advantage of feeling his Chakra, but honestly, I think everyone is overstating the value of the Sharingan. It doesn’t make you smarter, or I don’t know, live longer. If anything, having a Sharingan without the physiology to match would lead to severe mental trauma. Insanity, even.”

“Yeah,” she says a little wistfully. “We are all very quick to believe the worst of him, even to the point of overlooking some damn obvious holes in the narrative. I don’t blame him for leaving us—we left him first.”

Umm. Well, this is a fine opportunity to ask something he has been on and off curious about for weeks. “You have a third, no? The Toad Sage?”

“Jiraiya.” Her tone grows complex and heavy. Sasuke’s heart lurches a little in his chest. “He—I don’t think I consider him my teammate anymore. Oro never once pretended he was something he was not—if anything he pretended he was worse than he was. But Jiraiya—I don’t think I could stop myself from attacking him on sight.”

“Because of Aniki?”

She sighs and smooths a warm hand down his hair. His heart lurches again, rabbiting in his chest. “In part. Because of you, too. Nothing happens in Konoha that Jiraiya doesn’t know about. And your brother—he reported to Jiraiya directly. Week after week, month after month he lied to a kid the village manipulated into killing his own mother. That’s not—there’s pragmatic cruelty, and there’s evil, and I can’t see how this isn’t evil.”

He chews on this for a long moment, “I mean—to play devil’s advocate, he was, in the end following orders. Sounds like your—the Toad Sage, he is really committed to Konoha. Like, ride-or-die type thing. I think it’s possible to do evil things without being evil. So.”

Tsunade-sama is quiet for a long sequence of heartbeats, and Sasuke thinks the conversation might be over when she speaks again. “See, the problem is. You’re not wrong. But it is hard to hear your words and not loathe that you have been made to think them so soon.”

Sasuke is very dubious. “Right. I’m sure in the grand scheme of things, it’s my immaturity that is the thing I should miss most.”

She hums in response, running soft fingers through his hair again. “Yes. Yes, it is. But never mind this maudlin old bat. We were talking about your recovery. I would like to have at least ten seasons to heal residual damage to your CNS, and see how we can strengthen your optic nerve. If it works, it will go a long way in helping integrate a fully matured Dōjutsu without much complication.”

She busies herself with writing something for a few short minutes, while Sasuke works through all the emotions. It’s—he hasn’t been forced out of his body for weeks, and his discipline has paid off—four hours of floating a day is enough to keep him more or less there. Thank all the Gods, that his newly eye-less state hadn’t caused him to lose the skill. It might be easier with the Sharingan, but his Chakra is his own—no eye can stop him from recognizing his own soul.

“Your Chakra pathways have stabilized some, which is an excellent development.” She says out of the blue as if the conversation never stopped. “That is one area where I cannot help you. Your body was pushed too fast too soon, and your Chakra pathways almost got blown to shit. Which is a singularity painful death sentence, let me tell you. Now that the main stressor has been removed, your body has finally had a chance to repair some of the damage.” She trails off again, before adding as if an afterthought. “All the time spent with Katsuyu has helped, too.”

Well, isn’t that swell?

“Honestly this Sharingan business seems to bring more harm than good.” He says, a little wistfully.

“If you didn’t have half of the Elemental Nations going after you, I’d be all up for implanting a nice pair of baby-blues and letting you live in peace. As things are, you need every bit of protection you can find.”

“Right.” It’s not he doesn’t agree. But—whatever mind-break-shift-thing happened, way back when, it left Sasuke without some aspects of himself. Aggression would be one of them. “Because a pair of eyes are going to make a difference.”

“I can hope, kid. Someone will try to take you sooner or later, and when that happens, Itachi-kun will burn the world. It is not lost on me that he was an S-ranked threat before we healed him and started teaching him shit.”

“I don’t want to make trouble for Aniki.” He agrees. “I can deal with the eyes if that will make him feel better. I’m just saying—it took me weeks to not be frightened off by your Chakra and you’re the most nurturing person I’ve ever felt. If someone comes after me with the intention to harm, well.”

“Baby-steps, brat. First, we get you healthy. Then we work on your instincts. Even if I have to throw you into the Summoning Realm, and count on the spirits to whip you into shape.”

Spirits. Summoning. Now there’s an idea.

* * *

Between all the surgeries and (gross) repairs that reportedly have to be done to Sasuke’s eyeballs, it’s not too difficult to age them up for a few years. The whole thing is beyond him in every conceptual way. Way he figures, even if they screw it up, neither Itachi nor Sasuke is likely to survive for long enough for that to matter.

Because Tsunade-sama likes messing with Sasuke’s brain, she schedules the surgery for a Tuesday. Like a monster. Everyone knows nothing important happens on a Tuesday. And there she is, cutting into Aniki’s skull and removing his eyeballs.

It’s really quite cute, how unbothered Aniki is about being put under and having his mentor-mother cut him open. Yeah, Sasuke’s done it first, but Aniki is way more Uchiha than Sasuke is, and he probably feels the taboo of it much more.

“Hey, so, do you think I will be able to read again?” He asks Orochimaru-sama. The man insisted on observing Aniki’s surgery from the side-room. Sasuke doesn’t see what he could possibly get from watching Tsunade-sama re-arrange organic matter inside Aniki’s skull. Chakra-healing is more precise, but nor less bloody than what he assumes civilian healing is like.

“Why, do you like reading?” Orochimaru-sama replies, not really keeping the creepy glee from his voice. Sasuke gets where the glee is coming from—they’re transplanting a solid chunk of Sasuke’s optical nerve into Aniki’s skull. New medical ground is being made here, and Orochimaru-sama is nothing if not a dedicated man of science.

“I did,” he muses. “Mostly dealing with, y’know. Insanity, what with non-stop hallucinations and inability to distinguish reality.”

“Admirable attempt, but useless ultimately. Shinobi psychiatry is very different from civilian psychiatry. Civilians will never have hallucinations as strong as you, or as vivid. Partly because of your upbringing and experience with Genjutsu from an early age, but mostly because of your Dōjutsu. You weren’t insane, your body was just malfunctioning.”

Huh. What a casual way to talk about the most defining problem of his life. “Isn’t that what insanity is? My brain malfunctioning?”

“Mm. Yes and no.” Orochimaru-sama says, not taking his eyes off the odd chakra-cylinder Tsunade-sama is using to cut into Aniki. “Technically yes. Not in the context I am talking about. I will not get into a philosophical discussion about free will and the nature of consciousness and the complex interplay between the physical and the spiritual now. Your malfunction is likely much simpler, and a matter of simple surgery to fix.”

“Cool.” He says, feeling the first stirrings of irritation. This sounds like important information for Sasuke to have, but whatever. “Cool, cool, cool.”

“Where did you even learn to speak like that,” mutters Orochimaru-sama to himself. “You’ve not been around street-rats to pick up their bad habits.”

“Excuse you, I slept out in the streets of the Compound for four years, more or less, if it was at all possible. I am so a street-rat.”

“You’re the Uchiha Prince, brat. You’re the Heir to the oldest Clan in the Elemental Nations, you and the blonde Uzumaki Jinchūriki.”

Wait. “Uzumaki?” He asks with no little shock. “From my class? Blonde homeless kid?”

“What.” The shrill sounds of an unwelcome surprise resonate through the hypnotic thrumming of Orochimaru-sama’s Chakra.

“The blonde orphan boy.” He repeats, just in case something wasn’t clear. “The boy who couldn’t read or talk properly? That everybody low-key wanted to murder or at least neglect to death. He’s actually an Uzumaki?”

“I would think so, yes.” Says Orochimaru-sama slowly. “He is your age. He is also the Uzumaki-Namikaze Heir.”

Sasuke chews on this for a long moment. “Are you telling me,” he says, just to be certain. “That Konoha exiled the last Senju, crippled the last Uchiha and beat down the last Uzumaki?” He blinks once, twice, three times. “Why?” Is the only thing left to say.

“That is the question, isn’t it. My people in the village report the boy lives in his own apartment and is a reasonably cheerful child.”

Sasuke shrugs, trying to infuse his body language with scepticism. “I mean—it’s possible. I only knew him for a little bit, before I got kidnapped and kicked out of the Academy. He was hopeless then, though. Spoke real rough, looked real rough. Skinny, wild. Sadder than you can comprehend. Like I said, homeless urchin.”

This is new, Sasuke thinks with no little interest. He’s never seen Orochimaru-sama truly disgusted. Not angry—he wouldn’t trust anger if he felt it. Sasuke can’t rule out the Sanin is capable of true, passionate rage, but it would be against everything he had come to expect. As it is, the harmony of his Chakra shifts, flows into something a lot like war-drums. A determined, settled cynicism.

“The blonde Uzumaki Heir is to my knowledge the last possible candidate to access the ruins of Uzushiogakure. That is enough to treat him like a prince, never mind the rest.”

Huh.

“Maybe someone taught him how to read,” he says, helpfully. “That’s the first step, right?”

“Unless you want me to tell Hime you are passionately interested in the comparative uses of medicinal plants across the Elemental Nations, you will stop talking. There is a never-before-done medical procedure happening before our eyes that will revolutionize how ocular transplants happen. Be. Quiet.”

Yeesh. What a grumpy old reptile.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whatever primordial deity is in charge of like writing inspiration has turned their eyes on me and i will ride this fucking wave of writing-strength until i die which might be sooner than later but for now whee


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two steps back--kind of.

The surgery is predictably successful, and Itachi’s recovery is predictably awful. It takes longer than expected, which puts everyone on edge. Something is happening with his Chakra, it’s changing before their eyes, minute by minute, hour by hour.

Sasuke is transfixed by it. It’s just so—impossible that something as meaningless as two fleshy bits of organic matter would have a tangible effect on a soul. And yet—the proof is right there before (hah) his eyes.Itachi’s Chakra feels like roughly mended silk, like an exquisite piece of pottery mended with gold. The breaks are mending, and while the seams themselves are stronger than ever, the rest of him is that much more vulnerable.

“Dare I ask how it feels like?” Says Aniki, voice thrumming with amusement. He doesn’t even realize what’s happening, bless. He knows that he is weak and off-balance, but assumes that's because it takes more Chakra to use foreign eyes than it would his own, like the rest of the adults do. They’re wrong, of course, and the fact Sasuke spent three days breathlessly watching Itachi recover must clue them in to the fact.

“You look. Like if you and I had a child.” He says, mesmerized.

Itachi jolts, a wave of pure outrage slamming through him like an earthquake. “Excuse me?”

“Like—my eyes, somehow, don’t ask me how, still retained, well, me. Somehow. You absorbed it, you’re absorbing it as we speak.” He pauses, frowning. “That’s not the right word. You took my Chakra, bits of my puzzle, and implanted it into your own. Like a mosaic. Kind of, but not at all.”

“Are you saying my Chakra signature changed!?”

Sasuke hums, ignoring the note of panic in Aniki’s voice. Adults are so jumpy. “Yeah, of course it did. It changes all the time, though. No need to stress. It’s not that much more than it would change after a very significant life event. I can only place it 'cause I know your signature so perfectly. And, of course, 'cause I can recognize my Chakra when I feel it.”

“Alright.” Says Itachi in the tones of the helplessly overwhelmed. “They feel better.” He adds. “It’s difficult to describe. They feel finished. Reliable.”

Huh. “None of those things describe me at all. But good on you.”

“That’s not true.” Itachi’s tone smooths out into something simpler now that they’re back in familiar territory. “You are the kindest person I’ve ever seen.”

Sasuke’s lips twitch. “Sure I am.” There’s no need to argue with him. Itachi, proud son of the Uchiha, is such a walking stereotype of his Clan it’s actually very funny. Beautiful, fire-crazed, mad. Cruel. Deeply comfortable with his obsessive tendencies. “But! I am eager to see if the intel you got from a crazed Uchiha deserter is any good.”

Itachi’s Chakra shudders in outraged delight. “I can confirm my sight is back to a hundred per cent.” He says, keeping most of the laugh from his voice. “My eyes—your eyes— _the_ eyes appear to be capable of conducing Chakra without issue. It’s the rest of the body that’s lagging, oddly enough.”

“It pays to have the worlds best medic doting on you,” he says reasonably. “Also—bad move, Aniki. You haven’t even mentioned blindness.”

“Tsunade-sama knew.” Itachi’s tone goes sort of silky-smooth, which must sit oddly with the crazed murderer vibe he’s been nurturing since infancy. “I thought it a bit gauche to bring up considering your escalating blindfold situation.”

He snorts, a bit taken aback at the unexpected humour. “Oh, you think so? You think me and my slime helmet would mind?”

“I think that was payback.” A theatrical pause. “Is payback. Nobody here is above it, I’m afraid.”

“Well, joke’s on you. Not only do I love the slime helmets, but they’re also made by Katsuyu-sama’s slime. I am like, thirty per-cent slime by this point. Two of her clones spent the night in my empty eye-sockets, you know.”

“I do know, Amaterasu preserve me.” He says, disgusted, amused and in awe in equal measure. “Spending time with you is uniquely harrowing, in that you manage to not only reach the heights of body-horror but are so blasé about it that you gaslight the rest of us. I think Orochimaru-sama is taking notes.”

Sasuke lets his lips curl into a satisfied smirk. “His little throat-seal trick is outclassed, yes. Although he has more material to work with. He can blend eerie, gruesome and sexual. I’m both too young and too grossed out to even try going down that path yet.”

“And thank Inari-sama for that.” Says Itachi, voice thrumming with serene bloodlust, a suggestion of near-terminal insanity hiding just beneath the surface. “I have a few years until you dip your toes in those particular waters, which I will use to squeeze some extra training from the two S-ranked Ninja that have taken pity on us. Let me first get strong enough to kill everyone and everything and then you can go around swallowing blades and emerging naked from torn bodies as Orochimaru-sama does.”

“Deal.”

* * *

It takes about two weeks more for Itachi’s Chakra to settle into something Sasuke gives his stamp of approval for. Tsunade-sama cautiously clears him for light physical exercise but she doesn’t really need to worry. Aniki spends most of his time meditating with Sasuke and Orochimaru-sama. Both men are working on developing their Chakra-sense more, but Sasuke kind of doubts they will get there anywhere as quickly as he had, and it took him over a year to fall into the trance without whatever Genjutsu he was casting on himself.

Honestly, Itachi is only meditating to stabilize his fluctuating Chakra. He doesn’t even want to begin the necessary months and years of introspection it would take to get anywhere. Orochimaru-sama is more interested but he also has plenty of time—the man is functionally immortal, after all.

While they’re busy, Tsunade-sama and Shizune-san are preparing for Sasuke’s upcoming eye-surgery. Itachi’s eyes were much less damaged than Sasuke’s were, which meant they are ready to be implanted immediately. Sasuke’s skull is less ready to receive them, what with being too small, but Tsunade-sama already dealt with that particular problem while they were repairing his eye-sockets. This is all to say that there is no reason to delay things further. As soon as Sasuke’s surgery is over, the three of them—Tsunade-sama, Shizune-san and Aniki will go to the Daimyo, and Sasuke will stay in Oto with Orochimaru-sama.

The surgery takes sixteen hours and forty-one minutes in the end. While the eyes were less mangled, Sasuke’s optical nerve was—yeah. What Tsunade-sama couldn’t heal, Orochimaru-sama could grow, and between the two of them and Katsuyu-sama making sure his heart is still beating, they manage to finish the operation successfully.

Honestly, Sasuke has been blind in one way or another for years, now. He wakes up, and his brain just—knows. There are eyes in his head, which should feel natural, but doesn’t. He can move them—which adds another level of surreality. He could—and did—move his eyes, back when, but these aren’t his eyes, are they?

Something between icy terror and blind panic overtakes him, and it’s only by the grace of Itachi being right next to his bed that he doesn’t rip his eyes from his skull on the spot.

Right, then. Out and away. No need to stay in the flesh-bag, not if it’s gonna be like this. There is a world out there, full of spiders and foxes and ladybugs.

* * *

He doesn’t, as it happens, get to stay away forever, because Tsunade-sama—or Orochimaru-sama, more likely—came up with an interesting strategy. Which is to pump Sasuke full of mood-stabilizing drugs until he can barely string a coherent sentence together, much less focus on anything. He doesn’t slam back into his body, he oozes back into it, one drop at a time.

It’s an interesting sensation, being drugged so thoroughly. It’s a similar state to what he had achieved when he was smaller, when he added a bit of Chakra to his meditation to make sure his mind doesn’t wander. It’s like that except in the opposite direction—instead of focused, his mind is aggressively uncoordinated and wispy.

“What the fuck was that, kid?” Says Tsunade-sama. “Your brother says you woke up—”

He frowns, trying to remember how to move his lips and tongue and head. Someone had the presence of mind to put something over his eyes, so that’s a plus.

“Feels. Wrong.” He says finally. “Weird to have eyes. Uncomfortable.”

“What does the pain feel like? Itching, burning, stabbing? Give me something.”

Pain. Hah. If only. “It’s not pain. Pain is easy. Just—wrong I guess. Scary. I panicked. I’d still be panicking, if not for whatever you drugged me with, I think.”

“Right. Okay. So, here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna have exposure therapy. That means we will get you used to having two working eyeballs bit by bit. If I have to stuff you full of lithium to do it, then that’s just something you will have to live with.”

Hmm. “I could always try the Genjutsu thing.” He says. “When I lost my eyes, I think I subconsciously put myself into something like a forced-calm state just to, y’know. Get through being blind, alone and insane.”

Tsunade-sama laughs, a harsh, entirely unamused sound. “Yes, I know. Do you want to know how I know? Because of residual scarring on your brain. I removed what little I could, but there’s no fixing most of it. You will always remain lobotomized to some extent.”

Okay. “Wow, I didn’t know that. And the hallucinations? Cause, let me tell you, I love you all a lot. But you will not make me go through that again, on the pain of, well pain. That is like, my literal worst nightmare.”

“You don’t have to worry about that.” She says, a little calmer. “I’m ninety per cent certain I fixed the issue. Several things were wrong, actually, but most of it was a severe Chakra burn through your optical nerve, damaging your occipital lobe. On top of that, your amygdala was fucked to hell. Irreparably for the most part. Never mind all that. Point is, there’s a reason I worked so much longer on you than I did on your brother. Some of the damage is, yeah, here to stay, but at least the hallucinations are probably not going to be a thing. And I suspect Genjutsu from anyone other than Itachi will fail miserably.”

“Cool. Cool, cool, cool.” He says, enjoying the way his tongue catches on his front teeth. “What were we talking about?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake—”

* * *

“Never a dull moment with you, monster child.” Says Orochimaru-sama. “How are you the only person in the world who doesn’t want a pair of Sharingan eyes?”

“Yeah, ’s pretty ironic,” he replies. “I don’t know. The exposure therapy helps, I think. Having Aniki there is nice, too. It’s just—it feels unnatural, somehow. Imagine if someone just—stuck another pair of eyeballs somewhere on your body and you could feel them moving and just—eugh.”

“Who knows what you did to yourself with your Chakra experiments. I wouldn’t think it’s possible to force a human mind to reject a natural sensory organ, but here we are. You’ll get over it. Plus you’re a fascinating case study. We’re learning so much about the structure of the human mind. You should be in no rush to stop being an impossibly dysfunctional human being.”

“Gee, thanks.”

* * *

Thing is, while the drugs work, while he’s high and mellow and chemically kept in place, it’s nice to see. Nice is a lovely, perfectly usable word. There is no point in trying to find a better one—every word pales in comparison. Why not stick with nice?

Point is—it’s thrilling to see, again. Only for a couple of seconds to start with, increasing every time. He’s forgotten what visual stimulus is, and just how overwhelming it can get. Aniki is, obviously, his main subject. Sasuke can’t quite be a human person enough to judge what is considered beautiful. Itachi looks like a dangerous animal, like he’s grudgingly allowing you to live, but that can change very easily. The symmetry of his features is so flawless it is off-putting. The skin looks too smooth, the hair looks too shiny. Everything about him screams ‘design’. Like those toads, that advertise their skin is venomous by being brightly coloured, Itachi wears his physical perfection like a threat it is. It’s all very unhealthy.

Now, Tsunade-sama, Orochimaru-sama and Shizune-san are weird ‘cause he has never seen them properly—only with his Chakra sense. The impression he gets from sensing is accurate, yes, but miles more abstract and conceptual than sight. It takes him a long time to come to terms with how striking his two—guardians?—are. Tsunade-sama looks like Amaterasu herself come down from the heavens. Every single line, curve and gesture speak of, well, a mother. With all the danger that concept implies.

Orochimaru-sama on the other hand looks most like what he had expected. You can tell more about Orochimaru by what isn’t there than by what is. The way light chases the shadow on the planes of his face keeps the eye from settling. There’s always something that catches the attention, that keeps the viewer coming back for more. The weight of his attention is an additional problem—when the golden eyes focus on you, really focus—well. Sasuke’s strategy with blatant predators has long since been abject surrender.

Really, next to Aniki, Orochimaru-sama and Tsunade-sama, Shizune-san is very out of place, and she looks to be very aware of it. Not resentful, he doesn’t think, but aware of it, and slightly annoyed. Like they all know she doesn’t belong, but they’re too ashamed to admit it.

Sasuke is pretty dangerous-looking himself, to be fair. Orochimaru-sama bullies him into looking into a mirror—for the first time in many, many years. It’s—a trip. He doesn’t feel any particular attachment to the image, he can objectively say he would have been attractive if not for the deranged aura firmly settled about his person. He looks similar to Aniki, and not just in a superficial Uchiha way. They have a similar air of wilderness around them, except where Aniki embodies the elegance and beauty of a born and bred predator, Sasuke is the flip side. The starving, beaten underdog, skinny and driven into the corner. Still dangerous, but without the aloof air of superiority.

“The scars are badass.” He says, tracing the thick white vines snaking from his eyes over most of his face. “Can I ink them?”

“Absolutely not.” Says Itachi without a blink. “You’re twelve. You will not get any ink until you’re either sixteen or an S-ranked Shinobi.”

“Boo.” He remembers the day the Inuzuka boy got his Clan tattoos when they started the Academy. The boy was ecstatic, and Sasuke was so jealous. Uchiha, as a rule never did Clan markings of any kind. If they did, it would have been fans, which is such a lame thing to do. “Imagine how pretty they would be, Aniki.”

“Then you best train very hard.” He says serenely. “You are part-way there already. With your sensing abilities, you would be formidable. Your eyes make you practically immune to Genjutsu, your grasp on Chakra makes you have a leg-up in Ninjutsu, your Chakra pool is enormous for your age and you can incorporate sensing into your Taijutsu quite easily.”

“And you are stuffing me full of anti-psychotics just to make sure I don’t mutilate myself.”

“You brought it up, ototō. If you want ink, then you know what to do.”

“You know,” muses Orochimaru-sama from where he was lounging nearby. “It wouldn’t surprise me something as trivial as tattoos is what pushes you to train. It should—but it doesn’t.”

“We’re the very essence of good-sense, yes.” 

* * *

Tsunade-sama and Aniki have about three weeks before they need to leave for their meeting with the Daimyo. Under their gimlet eyes, Sasuke can’t help but make progress. Day by exhausting day, he works and breathes through the panic and fear and a sort of white-out state where he’s beyond reason. It’s—something. He’s not used to working on himself. With half an ear he hears the endless discussions—arguments between the adults. Tsunade-sama thinks he’s too young for this type of work. Aniki thinks Sasuke is strong enough to do anything in the world he wants to and Orochimaru-sama is caught between them, obviously unwilling to even be talking about this.

Really, he thinks, if any one of them stopped to take stock of where they are and what they’re doing, they would surely realize how overly invested they all are in Sasuke. Aniki, fine, he gets that he’s Aniki’s person, and that there is a biological imperative to take into account. But Tsunade-sama, not to mention Orochimaru-sama, have their own lives to worry about. And yet, they spend day after day, week after week, month after month trying to fix a boy they don’t have any real obligation to.

Okay, Tsunade-sama loves Aniki, so there’s that, but Orochimaru-sama? Learning sensing is one thing, but surely this level of investment goes beyond that?

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whooo boy, i think this is day five of posting every day and my brain is a weird place to be


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Progress

“Alright, brat, it’s time.”

Oh boy. “I’m sure it is. Time for what?”

“Time for you to deliberately channel Chakra from your fingertips into this piece of paper.” Orochimaru-sama’s voice flows syrupy-sweet, not exactly daring you to argue, but communicating what his likely response will be to anything approaching a challenge.

“I mean. Sure.” He’s not working on his sight at the moment, that particular bit of torture is reserved for day-time. Evenings are Sasuke-relaxing time. He feels ever-so-slightly betrayed by this change in schedule. “Just channel some—how much? How thick? Should I coat it or inject it or what?”

“Start with making contact with it. That should be enough.”

“Sure.” He reaches out with a solid tendril of Chakra and pokes the paper Orochimaru-sama is holding out in his hand.

“How—never mind. That’s a stupid question. Of course, you don’t need to physically touch the thing.”

“That would really suck, if I had to physically touch things to reach them with my Chakra.” He says. “I would’ve been really blind.”

Orochimaru-sama hums, a little interested but unwilling to be diverted. “No matter. You’re lightning-natured, congratulations. In more interesting news, your balance is—amusingly terrible. You’re at ninety per cent spiritual and ten per cent physical Chakra. I would have thought it impossible to fall beyond a sixty-forty split, but here we are.”

Oh no. “Dare I hope that this doesn’t mean—”

Orochimaru-sama’s Chakra hums in delighted anticipation. “Sage has smiled on me, brat. This means exactly what you think it means. Physical conditioning.”

Shit. “Is this really necessary?” He tries, in no way above begging.

“It is. Not only for my petty satisfaction but for getting you to where you need to be to perform Chakra techniques. I even came up with an incentive.”

“Oh?” Incentive, his knobby knees. Whatever it is won’t be worth—

“Summoning. If you get to where you need to be, I will teach you Summoning.”

Sasuke’s thoughts screech to a halt. “Deal.”

“I thought you’d see things my way. Now—onto your schedule. For the first two weeks—”

* * *

It’s not surprising that Orochimaru-sama takes the concept of training and runs with it. Painful, but not surprising. After some experimentation, it turns out that sight-training goes really well with physical training. It gives him something to focus on other than the agonizing panic of his mind. Such as the agonized distress of his body.

“Why is this so difficult.” He says, sixteen days in, not even to be a brat. “I’m genuinely confused. I was never what you would call a prime Uchiha specimen, but I was better than this when I was three, for pity’s sake.”

Orochimaru pours him another cup of a disgusting protein concoction that tastes and smells and looks like vomit. “Your bizarre inferiority complex has somehow not lost its appeal. More to the point, it is so difficult because a human shouldn’t survive having such a tiny amount of physical Chakra. You survived by some horrifying happenstance that I’m sure will haunt me yet.”

“So no quick fix, then?” He says, gulping as much of the goop as he can.

“This is the quick fix, baby Uchiha. And the slow fix. This is the only fix, is the point I’m trying to communicate. You need to get to a point where your body isn’t actively burning your Spiritual Chakra just to survive.”

“Joy. How long do you think it will take.”

“About a year.” Says Orochimaru-sama, and Sasuke doesn’t choke on his goop, because he’s got manners, but he does scan the man’s Chakra aggressively for any sign of deception.

“You’re—not joking?”

Schadenfreude colours both the man’s voice and his Chakra. “Not at all. I am, if anything, conservative with the estimation. I’m putting a lot of stock in your genetics. Tsunade repaired organ damage you accumulated over the years, which helps.”

“You lured me with the promise of Summoning—how even dare you?”

“The fact I had to lure you out of complete physical ruination is concerning in itself, bratling. Alas, while I would like to claim subterfuge, Summoning is just about the only technique you will likely be able to do. You’re basically a Spirit now, if saddled with a physical container. I am about forty per cent certain killing you would just push you that extra step to becoming one.”

Sasuke perks up, brightening—

“No. I will not kill you. Those are not good odds, nightmare-child. I will not spend the rest of my days being chased around the world by your brother. I like it here. It’s humid, and my delicate complexion appreciates it.”

“You are very pretty.” He allows, pouting a little. “I doubt it’s the humidity, but what do I know? You’re probably the prettiest one here, after Kimimaro-san.”

“Benzaiten-sama guide me through these difficult times—”

* * *

“What I don’t get—”

“Sasuke-sama, _please_ , I have important business—”

“Kimimaro-san, for the last time, drop the honorifics. You’re older than me, stronger than me and prettier than me. As much as I can tell these things, anyway. Now, to my question—”

“All due respect, Sasuke-sama, now is a very bad time. _Please_ , I will attend you as soon as I am able—”

“You don’t need to attend me, what the fuck. Wait, Kimimaro-san, don’t go, I have questions—”

* * *

“So what did we learn today?”

“We—learned—that—”

“Less speaking more breathing, brat. I can practically see all the oxygen that isn’t entering your blood.”

“What—does—that—even—mean—”

“I see. You want more sets? I am very pleased with your enthusiasm, and I will of course oblige you. Who am I to stand in the way of such passion?”

“Oh—come—on—”

“To answer my rhetorical question, today we learned we don’t pester the de-facto Otokage when he has a meeting with our Daimyo. Now—”

* * *

“No, but really. What must I do to get Kimimaro-san to talk to me properly? He’s so unnaturally polite and I’m like, the most pitiful creature he’s ever going to come across. It’s like being polite to a lamp.”

Orochimaru-sama’s Chakra harmonizes amusement and annoyance in a very fetching melody. Really, as interesting it is to re-learn visual cues, simply focusing on Chakra is a much more insightful way of interpreting social interactions. “Kimimaro sees you as the answer to all his hopes and dreams. He believes he failed me by becoming ill and sees you as a chance to, ah, outsource his devotion to me, let’s say.”

Sasuke thinks about this for a long moment, taking the opportunity to gulp down another serving of fish. “Well, that’s the creepiest thing I’ve ever heard.” He concludes. “Not only is it very strange to think I am someone’s solution and not just a never-ending source of problems, but. He is aware you’re letting him run your village? Like, he knows that’s not something you would just let a random Shinobi do?”

“The problem with your line of reasoning is this: I don’t habitually go around comforting children and propping up their self-esteem. Kimimaro does a good job and until that changes, I have precisely zero interest in involving myself in his internal dialogue.”

“That’s not true, you comfort me all the time. You are comforting me now—”

“I am doing no such thing. You oozed into my living room and refused to leave. Expelling you would be too much effort.”

“Well, I’m hurt. That’s what this is. It’s my hurt face. Cause I’m hurt.”

“I’m swiftly re-calibrating my decision to not expel you from my apartment, my village and this very plane of existence.”

* * *

“I don’t have any advice to offer, Sasuke-san.” Says Shizune, soft-green Chakra leeching the worst of the pain out of his muscles. “Kimimaro-san is his own person and a young man under a lot of pressure. He is doing work he was in no way trained to do, running a village with next to no support. If I see you adding to that strain because you are bored, you will not like what I will do.”

Sasuke thinks about this a little, amazed by the fact that someone thinks he is capable of not causing strain. That’s practically his whole identity.

* * *

The good days become better—the bad days become worse. Seems to be the way of the world. He’s working on self-control pretty extensively, which allowed them to lower the amount of mood-stabilizers by about a third, in the ten days the rest of their family has been absent.

The first time Sasuke snaps outside of the expected ‘freakout’ window is the worst one. He is eating dinner, and a wave of disgust and loathing hits him so hard he only barely manages to stop himself from stabbing his own throat. Manly by burying the damn chopsticks into his thigh instead.

Its a blur from there. Orochimaru-sama immobilizes him instantly, applying a paralyzing seal as easy as breathing. Considering that the only thing keeping him from bleeding out is the fact that the chopsticks are still buried in his thigh, it’s a damn fine precaution.

The closes medic they have is Shizune-san, and she is sequestered in her rooms, much too far away to be immediately useful. Thankfully, Orochimaru-sama is who he is, and he’s picked up a few things in the billion years he’s been alive.

“Alright.” He says after Sasuke wakes up in a hospital bed, cuffed and drugged up and feeling like a damp tissue. “I admit I had not expected that. Thankfully, no lasting damage has been done. We were too ambitious in lowering your medication. I will re-calibrate the dose and come back to you. In the meantime, I leave you in Ukiya’s care. Tsunade’s brat will be with you shortly.” He leaves almost before the last word is out of his mouth. Sasuke would have been hurt if he couldn’t sense the baffled distress ringing through his spirit. He is rattled by Sasuke’s actions, emotionally unbalanced. It’s all sorts of heart-warming.

“Honor, Sasuke-san.” Hisses a mid-sized serpent, the red of her scales fading into purple and then yellow at the tip of the tail. “We’ve heard much about you.”

Holy Sage, he’s about to spend time with a Noble Spirit that isn’t Katsuyu-sama for the first time. Alright. Alright. You’ve got one shot at this, and it’s not great that your brain is scrambled, sure,but. Just reach out carefully, like a handshake but with your Chakra—

Of course, it slips, and his Chakra pours out and over, jerky, uncoordinated. Did you just—soul-vomit—over a Noble Spirit.

“I am so sorry,” he says, voice dead, mind blank. “I—I promise I don’t usually—”

“I—understand.” The lady hisses, but even Sasuke can catch the strain in her voice. “You are, as I understand, under the influence of some strong anti-psychotics. I will not hold it against you.”

“I just wanted to say hello.” He’s not even embarrassed. He’s blown through shame, dread, horror and now is in the stratosphere, floating in the temporary but pleasant numbness.

“Why don’t you get some rest, Uchiha-san. I will stand guard.”

“I suppose you aren’t willing to put me out of my misery? Judging by your colouring, a drop of venom should be enough to send me off.”

“I am afraid not, Uchiha-san. I am here as a guardian. But thank you for the compliment.”

Izanami wept, is that rude? Is commenting on a serpent’s colouring an incredibly invasive thing to do?

“Anytime.”

* * *

“One of your brother’s crows is here, bratling, and it’s currently grooming Kimimaro. Dare I ask if this obsession with my second in command is a genetic trait?”

“Okay, I am not obsessed with Kimimaro-san. But also, yeah, absolutely it is. Uchiha love pretty things, and Aniki is like, the most Uchiha to ever Uchiha.”

Orochimaru-sama’s sigh is complex and layered, but Sasuke picks out the fondness in it easily enough. “Your speech patterns are revolting and you should be ashamed. Go, brat, and get your letter, before Kimimaro has to go to a meeting with a crow in his hair.”

“Right away. Can I—”

“As I said, Kimimaro has a meeting. If you keep yourself from delaying him now, I will invite him to dinner in two days, and you can try to, ah, befriend him then.”

“Deal.” Is this what a transaction with a pimp looks like? Is Sasuke buying someone’s time and attention? Huh. He never thought to be on this end of the sexual service industry.

Best try to never call Orochimaru-sama a pimp to his face. It might horrify him, which means extra torture disguised as physical conditioning, but it also might amuse him, which means he will lean into the role with everything he has. With his looks and his fondness towards performative creepiness, he would make a devastatingly good pimp.

* * *

Little brother,

I hope you are well. We have had moderate success thusfar. Tsunade-sama is in non-stop talks with the Daimyo and I am kept under strict but fair surveillance by the twelve. They understand, as I do, that keeping my presence here a secret is the only thing that will keep them alive. I have not encountered any of my former colleagues as of yet but we agreed that, should that happen, Tsunade-sama and myself will remove ourselves from the city to cut down on bystander casualties.

AsI understand it, the rumours more or less agree that I had found your mangled remains months ago and had summarily killed myself. I assume this is Orochimaru-sama’s doing, but it’s a decent enough cover.

My Chakra has largely stabilized, and I had begun to explore the possibilities as best I can under the circumstances. I encourage you to do the same—I am certain you will be pleasantly surprised. It is still very uncertain, what the outcome of this excursion will be, but one way or another, my name has been cleared. The documents in question are sealed to the best of my and Tsunade-sama’s abilities, but copies have been ratified, archived, wide distribution pending the end of the talks.

Please take care of yourself. I have no doubt I had left you in capable hands but try and lessen Orochimaru-sama’s strain as much as possible. He has done more for us than I had known.

Katsuyu-sama sends her regards.

All my love

Itachi

* * *

“So is it your doing?” He asks as he’s digging his fingers into the worst of the cramps littering his body. “The rumours? How did you pull that one off?”

Orochimaru-sama looks to be miles away, mind churning through Itachi’s mess of a letter. For such a well-educated Noble, Aniki certainly doesn’t communicate well on paper. “I didn’t.” He says, voice crisp. “Any rumours I would think to start would be traced back to Oto, which would defeat the purpose.”

“Oh? So, who then?” It makes sense. From what Sasuke understood, their presence here was overlooked because the world thought Orochimaru-sama’s lair was a place the Uchiha would have to be dragged into, not out of.

“Who indeed?” Hums Orochimaru-sama. “There are several people that would benefit from the Uchiha brothers being conveniently done away with. It depends, in the end, on the number of assassins that come for your brother at the Daimyo.”

Wow. “Who would one even send?” He asks, mystified. “I mean, Aniki is really strong, yeah? In terms of full-frontal power, you can take him, but an assassin—”

Orochimaru-sama snorts and gives him a chocolate. This positive reinforcement thing is really working out for Sasuke. At least in this aspect. Since it’s paired with negative reinforcement during training, it balances out overall. “The type of attack will almost certainly lead us to who ordered it. Your brother’s terminal illness is known by a select few. ”

Sasuke raises an eyebrow. “That would be the terminal illness you fixed months ago would it?”

“Yes.”

“So—”

“So, if the attack is focused around exploiting that presumed weakness, we conclude?”

“That it was someone who knew about the illness but not about the fact that Aniki batted his eyelashes and slinked his way into the good graces of two of the Sanin?”

“Abominable phrasing aside, yes, that’s the gist of it. Several groups would benefit from you and your brother dying. All of them have one or more pieces of the puzzle, but nobody has all of them. By analyzing how they attack, we learn what they know and by extension who they are. Simple mission eval, brat, how do you not know this?”

“Academy dropout, remember. I can probably barely read anymore.”

“You can—alright. Listen carefully. New information has come to light so our objectives shift to compensate. The main objective is to design a course of medication that you can take constantly. Several hours of sight is clearly not enough. Barely read, Benzaiten-sama preserve me.”

* * *

Orochimaru-sama keeps his promise, which is something Sasuke has come to not only expect but rely on. For a villain, Orochimaru-sama has come closest to what the books had told him a reliable adult is.

“So, Kimimaro-san, tell me about yourself.” He says. There are many disadvantages to being among the sighted, not least of which is the dizzying cocktail of anti-psychotics Orochimaru-sama settled on. The upside, in this case, is clear. Kimimaro is lovely, in a startlingly human way. It is attention-grabbing for Sasuke who is used to spending time with very inhuman people. Itachi and Sasuke—and Orochimaru-sama and Tsunade-sama, truthfully—are very settled creatures, sanded down to their base components. Kimimaro accepts and embraces the duality of his personality. He is a strange mix of Itachi and Sasuke, of life-long, well-earned confidence, and shattering psychological vulnerability.

“What would you care to know, Sasuke-sama?” He says, as polite as ever. Orochimaru-sama had to excuse himself from the proceedings once it became clear Kimimaro-san’s processing power was all taken up by gazing adoringly at him and trying to anticipate any possible request he might make.

“Anything, I suppose. You are very interesting.”

Sasuke had not expected Kimimaro’s eyes to be as expressive as they are—although that is probably on him. Orochimaru-sama is very deliberate with his facial expression and Sasuke has come to expect everyone to be similarly controlled. But Kimimaro-san’s expressions are both transparent and unguarded. Innocent, almost. Like it hadn’t occurred to him to be anything but himself, completely and brutally, in a way that bruises lesser hearts. 

“I can’t think of anything interesting about me. I am a Kaguya, as you know. They all died, and Orochimaru-sama saved me before I died too. I have been his since.”

What a creepy way to phrase that. “Do you like it here? In Oto? I understand you are new to your, ah, position.”

Kimimaro’s brow furrows a little, which is unfairly adorable when combined with his clan-marks. The two red dots inch closer together, and Sasuke sort of wants to poke them. “I am fortunate and grateful that my Lord has a use for me, yes.” He says carefully, like he’s aware there is a glitch in their communication channels somewhere, but he’s not sure where it is or what to do about it.

Adorable. “Not exactly what I meant, but good enough.” He says gently. “Orochimaru-sama thinks very highly of you. He told me so himself, on several occasions.”

As expected, the sentence brightens the young man to a ridiculous extent. He’s not grinning, but his Chakra is bright enough to make him radiant with it. “I am undeserving of any such praise.” My, but Sasuke would’ve been in for a rough ride if he were trying to rip out the fanaticism from this one. Thankfully he’s not a complete idiot. Sasuke’s more or less Orochimaru-sama’s minion himself, so it would be kind of hypocritical of him to try. He’s also an Uchiha, which means his personality matrix will be overwritten as soon as he meets his Person. He has not a single stone to throw, here.

“Agree to disagree. I think you’re amazing, Kimimaro-san. It can’t be easy to hold your position, considering how young you are. Plus all the admin work must be so boring.”

A light blush dusts Kimimaro’s cheekbones. “I enjoy the administrative side of things.” He says, almost like he’s admitting a shameful secret. “I was little more than an animal before Orochimaru-sama found me. I couldn’t even speak, much less read. To be trusted with the position that I hold—it is beyond my wildest dreams.”

“Wow, your family was actually worse than mine was.” He says, with no little wonder. “That sucks. I’m sorry.”

“They’re all dead now.” Says Kimimaro, flicking his hand in an offhand gesture.

He beams. “That’s what I always say!”

* * *

“I trust your playdate was successful?” Says Orochimaru-sama once he has returned Sasuke to their part of the underground horror-maze he calls home.

“Very. It’s very nostalgic, spending time with Kimimaro-san, he’s a much better Uchiha than I am. He’s got the fanaticism down pat, plus the creepy tone, and pale skin. ’S a shame his eyes are light—Wait.”

“I will not be implanting Sharingan eyes into Kimimaro. No. Bad brat.”

“But why, though—he’d be such a fantastic Uchiha—”

“He doesn’t want it. He doesn’t have the physiology to withstand it. He has one bloodline-limit, that he’s already hard-pressed to manage. Take your pick.” The ‘I’ve got more’ hangs in the air.

“Okay fine, but I’m getting Aniki to adopt him anyway. It’s not like he has an emotional attachment to his long-dead Clan.”

“As long as you don’t mess up his already fragile physiology, you can name him Carrot, just leave me out of it.”

“I will, thank you. It will be so amusing and Aniki will love it, you’ll see.”

“Why do I feel like I had not thought this through.”

* * *

Aniki

I am doing very well. Orochimaru-sama has started me on remedial physical conditioning, which was and remains a disaster, but I survived so far.

Orochimaru-sama is keeping me hale and healthy. Nailing down a dose of medication that works is tricky, but I am confident we will have found a version that works by the time you return. I am sighted for a minimum of eight hours, which sucks, but I understand the reasoning behind it more or less.

In other news, I have made friends with Kimimaro-san, and I must have him as a cousin at least. You must adopt him for me, Aniki. You’re our Clan Head, it’s well within your power to do it. He’s adorable and would be the answer to every prayer made by our Elders if only he had two spinny-twirly eyeballs in his pretty head. Orochimaru-sama forbids even the mention of a transplant since he is convinced that it will play badly with his bone-thing. Still! A paper-cousin is better than no-cousin, yeah?

Alright, have to go now, it’s time for dinner, and Orochimaru-sama promised me tomato-soup if I sat through some Chakra-tests without complaint.

Love you

Sasuke

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who is this person writing all this adorable shit, and why are they possessing me??


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What a time to be alive.

Dear little brother,

I do not have much time to write, as circumstances here have grown rather strange. Suffice it to say that, in regards to the Uchiha at least, the Daimyo has decided Konoha owes us reparations. I have chosen to spend that favour to get the Uchiha Clan officially removed from Konoha.

There are two sets of documents sealed up in the blood seal at the end of the page. One set is for Orochimaru-sama, an application for the Uchiha Clan to officially join Otogakure. The other set is for Kimimaro-san, an invitation to join the Uchiha Clan, should we be accepted as a legitimate Clan.

Tsunade-sama and myself will have to stay for a while yet, to finish paperwork addressing the intellectual and financial assets of the Uchiha Clan. Until such a time as Orochimaru-sama accepts us, the assets will be held in trust by the Fire Nation’s Daimyo.

Once that last bit of admin work is completed, we will be returning to Otogakure. As you can imagine, secrecy will no longer be possible. I urge you to train, little brother, because we have powerful enemies snapping at our heels.

On our way back, I hope to collect a few individuals that could be open to an alliance, temporary or otherwise. Inform Orochimaru-sama that my crows inform me there are at least two Jinchūriki that could be persuaded.

Either way, we will hurry. The Daimyo has made several polite hints at the unravelling socio-political situation in Suna and how that will likely come to a head soon. I hope to be behind Fūinjutsu well before that happens.

Stay safe, little brother, and be good for Orochimaru-sama.

All my love

Itachi

* * *

Sasuke considers whooping—it sounds like something a kid should want to do. Against all odds, it seems Aniki’s plan is going as smoothly as possible. Oh, it’s all ridiculous. The Uchiha Clan is seceding from Konoha—what Uchiha Clan? There’s just Itachi and Sasuke and they are objectively more trouble than they’re worth.

“Hey Kimimaro-san, d’you have a sec?”

“Always, Sasuke-sama.” Kimimaro stands from his desk—and even that is somehow funny. It used to be Orochimaru-sama’s desk, is the thing. As with everything Orochimaru-sama owned, touched or even glanced at in passing, Kimimaro now considers it a holy relic. He keeps the damn thing pristine, polishes it at least twice a week and never allows more than three pieces of paper to touch its surface. Considering that Sasuke knows first-hand how much of a disaster Orochimaru-sama’s current desk is—considering _Kimimaro_ knows it too—the ritualistic worship is just endearing. “How may I be of service.”

You need his help, he reminds himself. Leave the creepy phrasing be for now.

Best go straight to the point, before too much fawning can happen. “How do I unseal a blood-seal?”

Kimimaro guides him through the—admittedly straightforward—technique patiently, like a good brother figure would, and Sasuke rewards him with a smile and a pat on the hand. Kimimaro doesn’t wag his tail, because he doesn’t have one, but the implication of tail-wagging is strong.

“Alright. I need to talk to Orochimaru-sama real quick, Aniki sent him some important documents, and then I have to talk to you straight after. Can you squeeze me in for an appointment this afternoon?”

Kimimaro tilts his head a little, fanatic light making his jade eyes sparkle. “I _always_ have time for you, Sasuke-sama, you needn’t ask.”

Holy Sage, he’s getting worse. Sasuke’s campaign to befriend Kimimaro has backfired, it looks like. Orochimaru-sama was of no help—he found the whole thing hilarious. Shizune-san thinks that Kimimaro has only one way of expressing positive emotion about a person, and that is slavish devotion. She assured him it’s a step in the right direction, even if Sasuke has his doubts.

“Great, perfect. You’re so helpful, Kimimaro-san.” He gushes, overdoing it a little, but the poor thing is starved for praise and it’s not like Orochimaru-sama is going to help any time soon. (Although, to be fair, if Orochimaru-sama were to honestly praise him, Sasuke isn’t sure the boy wouldn’t expire on the spot from acute rapture). “Such a good friend.”

Kimimaro drops him off at Orochimaru-sama’s office after a few more cycles of comment-compliment-furious blushing-stoic deflection-comment and so on. It’s, yes, a weird way to structure a conversation, but an amusing one and variety is good for the soul. He’s been alone with Orochimaru-sama for six weeks now, and while Sasuke very much appreciates the older man’s company, he doesn’t want him to realize that he doesn’t have to have Sasuke around at all, actually.

The man is going through some reports when Sasuke waltzes in. “Good afternoon, Orochimaru-sama, I come bearing gifts.”

“If they’re not blood-samples, I am not interested.”

“Way ahead of you. I already dropped them off at the lab, labelled and numbered as you requested.”

Orochimaru-sama sends him a deeply suspicious look, finally looking up from his reports. “Why are you being helpful. What nightmare did you concoct this time?”

Fair. “I am just having a good day.” He says, smiling. His real smile too, the small twisted one that makes one of his incisors poke out, and the scars on his left pull so one of his lower eyelids is more open than the other. “The drugs are working, I slept through the night, I napped in the sun with Yū-sama and not once did I feel the urge to stab myself at all.”

The suspicious light doesn’t abate at all, but Orochimaru-sama hums. “We will see. What is the news, then?”

Sasuke beams. “Aniki sent word. Here—it’s best if you read it yourself.” Orochimaru-sama doesn’t like to be handed things and Sasuke generally tries to be respectful of that, but there is simply no place on the desk to put the documents on. “The letter is on the top, and the—other stuff—is in the folders.”

All the chairs are covered in books, scrolls, papers and who knows what, so Sasuke clears himself a spot on the couch to perch on and wait.

As he expected, trying to interpret Orochimaru-sama’s facial expression and body-language is useless. As a rule, the man is either completely blank when he’s relaxed like now or deliberately projecting when he’s not. Whatever you see on Orochimaru-sama’s face, it’s precisely what he wants you to see. His Chakra, however, cannot lie. And his Chakra tells Sasuke that the man is all but sobbing in laughter inside. There’s a fair bit of confused pride there too, like he recognizes he’s feeling proud, but he’s not sure why exactly, who he’s proud of and if there is something that needs to be done about it.

“He wants the Uchiha Clan to join Otogakure.” He says. “The Uchiha Clan. One of the founding Clans of Konoha. Arguably the oldest Clan in Fire Country. To join this joke of a village.”

_Harsh_. “I think Otogakure is amazing.” He says loyally. “It’s got plenty going for it. Such as Kimimaro-san. And all these creepy underground facilities. And like. Your Daimyo sounds cool. So.”

“Rousing endorsement, brat. Well—I can’t see a reason why not? You already clawed your way inside, and Sage knows the damage you would do if I tried to kick you out at this point.” He signs the document, first with a signature like a normal person, then with a bloody thumbprint, probably just to make it creepy. “There you go. Uchiha Clan is now the first Noble Clan to officially join Otogakure. Congratulations.”

“Thank you, Orochimaru-sama.” He freezes for a second, a thought bubbling up from his already syrupy brain. “Do I need to call you Otokage now? Otokage-sama? Do I need to call Kimimaro something else?”

Orochimaru-sama sends him a dead look, but Sasuke can feel the fond exasperation just fine. The unique nature of Orochimaru-sama’s Chakra makes it really pleasant to be around him, he thinks for the millionth time. It’s so nice to listen to music again. “Is there something else you need brat?”

“Just your okay on Kimimaro’s adoption papers?”

“Kimimaro’s what?” A spark of real surprise thrums across his spirit-melody.

“I mentioned this, like, at least twelve times in the past two weeks. That I want Kimimaro to be mine. Well—not _mine_. Not even I can make Kimimaro be anything but your number one zealot. But _also_ mine. And Aniki’s. Kimimaro can be the family zealot.”

“You want to formally adopt Kimimaro Kaguya.” Says Orochimaru-sama. “Into the Uchiha Clan.”

Sasuke nods a few times. “Absolutely.”

Orochimaru-sama looks at him for a long minute, one hand propping up his head. “I pity everyone who comes in contact with you.” He says, apropos of nothing. “I really do. Alright, brat. You get your way. I approve your request. Get Kimimaro to agree or not, but leave me out of it. If he wants to file the paperwork to change his name, he can do it himself. Now go away, please. I appear to have to schedule a meeting with Chiharu-kun that I have to attend in person. Sage, Uchiha Clan moving to Oto no Kuni, what is the world coming to?”

“Thank you Orochimaru-sama, you’re the best.”

* * *

Yū-sama walks him back to Kimimaro’s office. Well, kind of. Yū-sama wraps herself around Sasuke to leech some of his body-heat, and Sasuke waddles back to Kimimaro’s office carrying ninety kilos of snoozing Serpent. He’d not have had the stamina for that even a week ago, but Orochimaru-sama’s nightmarish training schedule is good for this at least.

“Kimimaro-san, I have good news.”

He ignores his future brother's deep bow and tucks himself into what he has come to think of as his armchair. There should be a sign. He should get Kimimaro to make him a sign. Sasuke’s chair. Maybe a little drawing.

“First off, Orochimaru-sama has just approved the Uchiha Clan’s application to formally join Otogakure.”

“Congratulations.” Says Kimimaro immediately, without so much as a spoonful of understanding. Not a drop. Kimimaro’s Chakra is not as interesting as Orochimaru-sama’s is. It’s dynamic for one, which is the standard, but it’s beautiful in its own way. It’s slightly less chaotic than most humans’ is, for one, and it maps almost one to one to his expressions and actions. Very honest, is Kimimaro.

“I know, it’s not that big of a deal, honestly. But it does have one perk. It lets me make you my family, like, officially. We’re not missing-nin anymore, we can set up a Clan registry and everything.”

Kimimaro sort of glitches, like he heard and individually understood most words that came out of Sasuke’s mouth, and he wants to comply, he wants to agree, but he doesn’t have the first clue what that would entail and how to go about it.

“You—want me to be your family?” He says, mystified. Or what passes for mystified for Kimimaro. It’s a very complex emotion, they’re working up to it.

Sasuke gentles the manic edge of his smile into a more human-appropriate curve. “Yeah, yeah I do. I think it would be awesome. I already cleared it with Orochimaru-sama, he gave you his blessing. Us. He gave _us_ his blessing.” Is this what proposing feels like? Is he brother-proposing to Kimimaro?

As expected, the mere mention of Orochimaru-sama’s name in relation to himself makes something important shut down in Kimimaro’s brain. Sasuke graciously allows him a little time to come to terms with the fact that his hero has spared a thought about him.

“Orochimaru-sama wants me to—have a family? With you?”

Sasuke hiccups. “Not exactly.” He see-saws his hand. “He wants you to know that he supports you if you want to be my family. The phrasing is unexpectedly important in these things. But yeah. That’s the gist.”

Kimimaro chews on this for a minute, while Sasuke observes his Chakra with interest. It’s not churning, or upset. It’s sort of—vibrating a little. Not restless, just processing. “I would be—your family?”

He nods. “And I would be yours.”

That seems to shake something loose in Kimimaro and his eyes widen owlishly, in an expression Sasuke hasn’t seen so far. “You would be—mine?”

This is _adorable_. If even Sasuke thinks this is adorable, then it will be paralyzing to Aniki once he comes back. It’s like Chakra-spying on a baby-deer before it takes its first steps. This sort of fragile awe at the world, a mix of a real fear of falling down and hope that, yeah, you might fall but you might _not_ and isn’t that more than worth it?

“I would be your family yes. You would have me and Aniki, and Aniki and I would have you.”

“And Orochimaru-sama approves of this?” He says, tone gaining a little urgency, a little weight to it. His Chakra grows heavier too, a sure sign that Kimimaro is in the very rare situation where he wants something for himself and is able to get it. Not only able, but encouraged to get it. “Approves of you being mine and me being yours.”

“I mean—this is all possible because it’s understood the three of us are already his. But yes. He approves of it. I checked, just now.”

“And Itachi-sama—he wants this too?”

“He wrote the request, didn’t he? Read it—it’s there in front of you. A formal invitation to become an Uchiha. From Itachi Uchiha—our Clan Head—to you, Kimimaro Kaguya, some day Kimimaro Uchiha if you want to be.”

Kimimaro breathes deeply for a long moment. He is too well trained to let his heart speed up and slow down this easily, but the buzzing in his Chakra increases, a proto-version of impatience threading through.

“Alright—what must I do? Is there a test? A challenge? A ritual?”

“No test. Just—sign there. At the bottom. Then file the paperwork—I can’t help you there, I have no idea what filing paperwork entails. But yeah—that’s it.”

With painfully slow, cautious movement, Kimimaro picks up a brush and signs his name. First in hiragana, then in kanji, every line and hook perfect. “And I am permitted to change my name? To not be a Kaguya anymore?”

“If you want. We’re kind of making up the rules, here. But you don’t have to be an Uchiha to not be a Kaguya. You can be a completely different thing if you need like. Time or whatever.” Sasuke gives himself a pat on the back for this little bit of emotional sensitivity. He’s _nailing_ this!

“I—want to?” Says Kimimaro, as slowly and precisely as he had written his name before. “Uchiha are now Orochimaru-sama’s, are they not?”

“Oh, absolutely. As I said, that’s the cornerstone of this whole little arrangement.” Arrangement is a nice euphemism for this whole fictional bit of performative hand-holding, that is in truth little more than the adults indulging Sasuke.

“Alright. I will change my name. And be your family.”

Sasuke beams at him again. “Perfect. Now—which role, _specifically_ , do you want to hold—”

* * *

“Shizune-san! Meet Kimimaro Uchiha—the middle Uchiha brother.”

Shizune cranes her head so she can peer into Sasuke’s face. It’s an awkward movement, considering he’s hooked his jaw over her shoulder to see the document she is working on. Kimimaro stands behind him, radiating nervous anxiety, in a typically Kimimaro-fashion. He is too well trained to have anything but perfect control over his body, but he is not self-aware enough to recognize his emotions, or how to stop projecting them in ways other than fidgeting.

“Nice to meet you, Uchiha-san.” She says smoothly. “Congratulations. And to you too, Sasuke-san. I know you’ve been working hard to make this happen for a while now.”

That’s a bit of a stretch. He wrote one letter, with full confidence Itachi will indulge him like always. “Thank you! Do you want to have lunch with us?”

He unsticks himself from her person and ambles back to his brand-new Uchiha. “Shizune-san is like, the epitome of good sense,” he says in a faux-conspiratorial tone. “Really. If you want to learn how to be sensible, she’s your woman.”

Kimimaro nods at him, taking his words at face value. “Thank you for telling me, Sasuke-sama—”

“Ah, ah, _ah_.” He wags his finger. “You’re my brother now. Just Sasuke.” Better not tell him to call him Otōto just yet. Itachi is coming back soon enough and he will need some time to adjust to his new reality. Best not make it more difficult for him. Kimimaro is lovely and all sorts of strong, but he will probably not survive Itachi in a snit.

The expression of scandalized offence that twists Kimimaro’s face is a work of art. “You still outrank me, being Orochimaru-sama’s student.”

“Family trumps military hierarchy,” Sasuke says comfortably. “At least in informal settings. Itachi still outranks you in the family so you can be formal to him.”

Kimimaro thinks about this for a long moment, clan-marks almost touching with how much his brow is furrowed. “So, Itachi-sama or O-ni'i-sama, and Sasuke-san?”

“Just Sasuke is fine. I already call you Kimimaro.”

“You can call him Sasuke-kun if it makes you more comfortable, Uchiha-san,” says Shizune-san, sending Sasuke a quelling look. “It’s perfectly appropriate for an informal setting.”

Kimimaro actually blushes a little at being called Uchiha-san and he bows deeply to Shizune. “Thank you for your guidance, Shizune-san. Will your duties permit you to join us for a meal?”

Shizune shakes her head with a very polite smile. “Unfortunately not, Uchiha-san. Some other time. My schedule is less flexible than Sasuke-san’s is, and Tsunade-sama has asked me to finish up some—administrative duties for the Senju.”

Hold on—is Senju still a Clan? They haven’t disbanded, officially?

Wait—

“Shizune-san, are _you_ a part of the Senju Clan?” He asks slowly, parts of his mind he hasn’t used much slowly waking up. “Shizune-san— _is the Senju Clan_ —”

“I am afraid I cannot divulge any Clan secrets at this time, Sasuke-san.” She says with a perfectly blank face. He sees the somewhat resigned humour glinting in her eye. This is—

“Say no more.” He says, feeling a little like he wants to laugh at everything forever.

Is the Senju Clan officially moving to _Otogakure_?

“Let’s go, Kimimaro, I need some food in me. Today has been absolutely wild, and my strength cannot sustain it.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shit guys, this is cute af im not even like shy about it i read it over just now and was like damn what the fuck what was i listening to when i was writing it what was i eating i need to know


End file.
